2 noviembre 2009 - tripy tripy festival

"this kid is biting my top lip. fuck. like he is really sucking on my lip. shit. where is talor? he takes me outside to find her. we see a kid from earlier. awkward. lip boy is trying to hold my hip like i’m his. i’m drunk, but i’m no one’s… 
… when i get home julie and i sit in the kitchen eating cold pizza in the pent house. she told me she took a shower and brushed her teeth twice because a boy kissed her…
… now it’s monday morning. i have a purple lip. i’m wearing lots of lipgloss and sobering up.”

24. 10. 09

we were driving through the desert and all of a sudden there was a slight bulge in the ground… barely a hill. we walked through electronic doors and felt damp and cold. wandering through a maze of stalactites and stalagmites. 
now i am in a car driving across a desert on the other side of the world. i see these small bumpy hills… i imagine all the worlds hidden in our spec of dust. what the fuck is an atom?
i am so tiny and i ignore this. i fight to starve myself. while everything matters- nothing matters. sometimes i look at satellite dishes and cell phone towers and laugh hysterically. wont say things in front of her and wont wear this in front of him. i should punch myself but then i think of how i never have to listen to anyone ever again and i dont punch myself. instead i think of dust. 


"i am drunk, you are stoned. we are miles apart.

you write me…

'i wish i was in your bed right now. we gotta take a bus to florida and live on a beach please… will you really live in a tent on the beach with me… yes, i will take such good care of you… you have to take care of me too… i'll get us a taxi to the buses and we can go somewhere nice and warm and set up a tent and an air mattress and make camp there… ill bring my banjo and you bring your ukulele and we can make money playing in the street when we run out of food… then we can do whatever we want for as long as we want… and it would work… we dont need groceries right away… we can sleep all day and get up whenever we want… yes, then we can save up and move somewhere else for a while… wouldnt that be so nice, though? … and we could name our house an indian name and i would never wear shoes and we could wear feathers… and if it gets too hot we could go build a cabin in the mountains… too bad you only agree to all my plans cause youre drunk… awh alright, goodnight baby.' 


you’re puzzling…
but i want to spend hours bent over your pieces in low-lighting;trying to put you together…make you complete. 


you’re puzzling…

but i want to spend hours
bent over your 
pieces in low-lighting;
trying to put you
make you complete. 

6 diciembre 2009.

my phone rang at 4:13AM from a number i didn’t know. i ignored it 3 times, awake enough to brave the 4th. its him, in broken english… “im so drunk right now. and i love your voice. and i say, i have to hear this voice. and it is stupid, because i dont know you, but i just feel like one of those people… those, adictos? addicts. i need more of you all the time. and i want to have you in my arms. your beautiful eyes. falta un poquito, hermosa.”

15 noviembre 2009.

"the power went out in the club and next thing i know i am pushed against the bar and G is kissing me. something that is nice is that he will always hold my hand, even if its just my pinky or something. he will kiss me and then say "guacala" which means "disgusting" and i will tell him "feo" which means "ugly." we barely understand each other and he is always biting me. everyone is always biting me."

7 noviembre 2009

"divastar took talor and i to a ritzy party… she didn’t mention that we were going to the countryside. im in a white sundress. i now have exactly 80 bugbites. spent the day watching talor and eddie wrestle in the pool. i just felt real calm. we walked this path through the empty space to a lake and an abandoned shack thing. talor and eddie made out and i just ran around the south american coast on the side of a mountain while the sun set, collecting feathers in a white sundress with a scarf floating in the breeze behind me. bien bonita."

in an effort to pack, i uncovered my old journals. leatherbound, world maps, too fat to close, stuffed with envelopes and dried flowers, love notes, photos.. im rereading them and add excerpts through entries on this blog. 

i woke up like this feat. my new tattoo. 

"the hardest part is waking up in the morning
remembering what you were trying to forget last night”

cant sleep sound this week. think about you.
missing you wont help. the miles now are seconds
compared to the hours they will become. 
stick to my red red medication.

i’m in the market for a relatively normal dude to hang out with. just someone who accepts me drinking wine and dancing around in my underwear to rihanna and sometimes swearing in another language when i get mad. lights my cig when i want one. takes me out with his friends. not always but sometimes. takes time for himself too. and someone who is willing to see the entirety of the world with me, slowly, until we get tired. i am willing to learn sports and love you. thats all really, let me know. 

cant stop listening to this album. (19:06 so perfect.)

the room is filled with the smell of dark coffee. i bought my flight to paris today. september 14th. i’ve been doing a lot of drinking and a lot of walking barefoot in long grass. ive been having a lot of sleepovers. lots of cooking. no kissing. no snuggling. no hands in my hands. i’ve been doing a lot of drinking. 

theres something about being 22 and spinning. i cant stop doing it. 

i spent the past two days in bed with a headache that started from whiskey and stayed because i am leaving the country again. for 8 months. which isn’t a lifetime, but is long enough to keep me from starting roots in any particular place. instead creating another offshoot for the love in my heart to pour out endlessly and never complete the circle. just keep pouring blood red into machala heat, into my chartreuse mountain, into rio piedras nights humming coqui lullabies. 

i thought i was moving to bordeaux, france.. but that turned into a smaller Mont-de-Marsan, and then that turned into even smaller Biscarrosse. A small city on the Atlantic ocean where people come to surf and escape in the summer, and in the winter i’m sure it lies dormant and quiet, forgotten until the sun shines again in june. so here i go, off to a sleepy town for october to may. 

i can’t really feel the end of the época yet
but i’ve been crying at every shitty video on facebook.

woke up at three in the morning,


woke up kicking, shaking
thinking everyone i ever kissed found me in my sleep. 

turns out it was through the wall.

turns out i can hide a little while longer.