i didn’t break up with you until 2 days ago.
not 2 years ago. i broke up with you
in the backseat of a minivan
looking over the edge of a pacific cliff.
dusty floor and i am not kissing you anymore.
blue crashes and i am not kissing you anymore.
i can’t believe we’re breaking up.
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.'