so the setting is 4 days ago. i'm seeing the vagina doctor, well, in actuality she's seeing me. and while she's inside doing her business, she asks me what classes i'm taking at the local liberal arts college. it just happens we both moved to WA for evergreen pastures and of course, Evergreen. . i let her know that i'm taking US history: 60s to the present. funny, she says, she took a similar class on sex and gender (go figure that she ended up as a gynecologist) when she went. She had an absolutely wonderful professor, Stephanie Coontz.
as i lay there, legs splayed out, nothing to look up at (at least dentists' care if one gets bored or not. thank you sincerely Dentists of America ,if not the World, for giving me something else to look at then that weird-70s-style-brownish-polka-dot-cardboard-thing you got going.), i'm thinking that name sounds very familiar... there is a very loud bell going off in my head.
and then it hits me, as she stretches her fingers and searches about, that the book i happen to be reading for class is written by this woman! A Strange Stirring: The Feminine Mystique and American Women at the Dawn of the 1960s. (a strange stirring?! i mean, jesus christ, i get it. funny joke universe...)i feel like i know Coontz, her opinions, questions, and the way she talks. and i've been seeing what she's pointing out about in the book in my personal life, the staggering price we pay for having gender roles in place and then getting confused or defeated by them.
i guess that would be enough of an awkward story if it were to end there. but... alas the next day i meant the woman. and blurted out the whole weird mess of what happened with my gyno to my professor.
awesome...
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Friday, April 29, 2011
Thursday, April 28, 2011
i'm thinking it over anyway
i have to cut this heart string unless i am happy being thrown down that well. and i can't swim, float, even flail. i have to inflate my heart, ride atop waves and cyclones like alice or dorothy. self-perservation.
run away and find yourself.
i hope that turns out well.
the best laid plans of mice and men...
will surely see us next in hell.
or some shit.
run away and find yourself.
i hope that turns out well.
the best laid plans of mice and men...
will surely see us next in hell.
or some shit.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
things.
i want to remain as innocent as i used to feel... these small truths, small mountains we tackle in the middle of the night. cold sweats and the like. they're changing me. "i feel the earth move under my feet, i feel the sky tumbling down..." - carole king
" oh young fools. don't cry. a n y m o r e . . . "
Monday, April 25, 2011
tonight
i saw the eyes of a child looking back at me. i kind of feel cold. i kind of feel like a heartless beast. too bad you are not a child anymore. but i understand... i have been that scared too. (i was trying to find the best time to tell you the whole story. the beatings, the loneliness, the crazy...)
the stern face is for the weight of that armor resting on your shoulders and the miles i watched you walk away.
the stern face is for the weight of that armor resting on your shoulders and the miles i watched you walk away.
Thursday, April 21, 2011
almost lover
i've lost hope that one day those prophecies will come true.
the imaginary montage flashing before my eyes, that one drug filled night.
not hope,
perhaps just cables i've thrown out to sea for you
dreams attached to those black strings
wrapped around
in semi circles like kelp or seaweed.
that rest on the bottom,
covered in coral.
as if they dreamed and had nightmares too
like you
tossing and turning
blankets strewn across the bed.
that's how it looks down there, in the dark.
with no one to hold, caress, awake, and tell you it'll be okay.
tossing and turning
waves, the big bullies, kicking sand on top my hopes and dreams.
those cables that imitate my veins.
i tried to cut them off so long ago.
you know,
you where there!
tossing and turning
as you try to catch your breath from the moment that you knew this was over.
as you try to stop from breaking into a million tiny pieces on the linoleum.
running as fast and as far away as you can
because you trust your heart and your feet and the rapid pulse of your beat
and they're all screaming at you to simply
run.
we're all trying to recover from this,
you're not the only one.
i would wrap you in my arms and hold you
and tell you myself, the truth.
cover every word in semi sweet chocolate, honey, or prose
whisper softly on my tippy toes.
cry too,
if that's what you need.
[and i wish you could hear that every good intention was enunciated
like damp dew drops on dandelions.]
but when have you ever listened?
as soon as something you disagree with gets said
you're gone.
my turn.
the ocean floor thrown about in the fury of a kiss.
one that i wish i could take back...
i'm reeling in
black, pearl-like strings
back in
while hours and songs filled of you
flood out
tossing and turning
as i try to wash and rid my skin of any trace of you and your fingertips.
as i try to squeeze out a tear that dried up on the pavement last year and even years before that
running as fast and as far away as i possibly can
because i trust my head and my limbs and the weight of my heart on my ribs
and they're all screaming at me to simply
let go.
a fine frenzy -almost lover
"Goodbye, my almost lover
Goodbye, my hopeless dream
I'm trying not to think about you
Can't you just let me be?"
the imaginary montage flashing before my eyes, that one drug filled night.
not hope,
perhaps just cables i've thrown out to sea for you
dreams attached to those black strings
wrapped around
in semi circles like kelp or seaweed.
that rest on the bottom,
covered in coral.
as if they dreamed and had nightmares too
like you
tossing and turning
blankets strewn across the bed.
that's how it looks down there, in the dark.
with no one to hold, caress, awake, and tell you it'll be okay.
tossing and turning
waves, the big bullies, kicking sand on top my hopes and dreams.
those cables that imitate my veins.
i tried to cut them off so long ago.
you know,
you where there!
tossing and turning
as you try to catch your breath from the moment that you knew this was over.
as you try to stop from breaking into a million tiny pieces on the linoleum.
running as fast and as far away as you can
because you trust your heart and your feet and the rapid pulse of your beat
and they're all screaming at you to simply
run.
we're all trying to recover from this,
you're not the only one.
i would wrap you in my arms and hold you
and tell you myself, the truth.
cover every word in semi sweet chocolate, honey, or prose
whisper softly on my tippy toes.
cry too,
if that's what you need.
[and i wish you could hear that every good intention was enunciated
like damp dew drops on dandelions.]
but when have you ever listened?
as soon as something you disagree with gets said
you're gone.
my turn.
the ocean floor thrown about in the fury of a kiss.
one that i wish i could take back...
i'm reeling in
black, pearl-like strings
back in
while hours and songs filled of you
flood out
tossing and turning
as i try to wash and rid my skin of any trace of you and your fingertips.
as i try to squeeze out a tear that dried up on the pavement last year and even years before that
running as fast and as far away as i possibly can
because i trust my head and my limbs and the weight of my heart on my ribs
and they're all screaming at me to simply
let go.
a fine frenzy -almost lover
"Goodbye, my almost lover
Goodbye, my hopeless dream
I'm trying not to think about you
Can't you just let me be?"
Monday, April 18, 2011
new items to revolve in space for a while
search:
STENCIL STICKERS & AWESOME PINS &AWESOME MAGNETS on etsy... if you want. :)
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
PROPAGANADA STICKERS on etsy.com
i think i'm going to go to sleep and dream of words that take the breath out of me.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
melt or burn
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| http://photos-f.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc1/hs222.snc1/6924_1221478689892_1016671361_30735101_2251882_n.jpg |
 |
| http://icanread.tumblr.com/page/2 |
 |
| http://icanread.tumblr.com/page/2 |
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
art is hard
 | ||
| greg "craola" simkins my favoite artist as of my 23rd year |
i hope you get what you deserve in the end. i'm tired of being the only one that's miserable.
 |
| http://www.etsy.com/listing/56414458/hand-stamped-stickers-art-quotes-on?ref=sr_gallery_20&ga_shopname=theloveshop&ga_search_query=word%20art&ga_noautofacet=1&ga_search_type=handmade&ga_facet=handmade/paper_goods |
please. don't.
 |
| http://icanread.tumblr.com/page/3 |
Advice to children crossing the street: damn the lights. Watch the cars. The lights ain't never killed nobody. ~Moms Mabley
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| http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lfrf99ZfhM1qd9hp3o1_500.jpg |
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
a patch of blue
welcome to :
"you brought me back to earth."
"i didn't want you come back to earth. i wanted you to make love to me."
"dark's nothing me, i'm in the dark all the time."
"slug in the puss."
"oh. i wish i'd never been done over."
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