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Part 3 of 4 in "On Four Different Night, Around Four Different Fires" 
  ptuscadero
 
06:04pm 18/08/2004
 
mood: cold
I'm totally just posting this because I need it on my other computer...Collapse )
 
     

(2 awakenings | i shot kate chopin)

 
this is a literary MASTERPIECE 
  elizaespana
 
01:12am 26/04/2004
  laminated picture of
jack on the dashboard
  curled and fell
we don't need no muse
we got ten museums
  under our belts
ten, and three
  religious classes
languages and political
 marches
libraries galleries
 dorm bands
  and
 free beer
and the highway tired
 of us
my little ghetto
 blaster
on the radio
 open containers
and the cops won't
stop us
he was smoking again
for nostalgia's sake
highway pushing his car
 away
and we had just wanted to run
got our hot outfits
ready
popped up collars
and new sunglasses
  and he laid down
money for
my new jeans
and we had fifteen
 years of
  culture
  in
  days
writing stories of second avenue
on the hood
and he don't get mad
'cause i love him
 best
when he's running away
cell batteries dead
and pictures of me laying on a bench
 he'll stick on
his wall
and tell his friends
 he love me best
when i got nothing to say
 and our house in
boulder waits
 
     

(4 awakenings | i shot kate chopin)

 
i thought i had posted this one already... 
  elizaespana
 
02:43am 14/04/2004
  The Track.

Madeline sat in the bar sipping her cosmopolitan. She had read in an issue of Mademoiselle that it was the new big drink. The issue had been in her doctor’s office with a date of one month and one year ago. Madeline was quite sure that it was still the new big drink.
Madeline adjusted the hem of her black skirt, pretending to pull it down, but really pulled it up in the process to show off a little more leg. She had read in Jane that this was a good trick. She bought a stool for her apartment and practiced this move in every one of her skirts before feeling confident enough to try it. She was quite proud of how well she could pull it off and always smiled to herself afterwards.
The stool was in Madeline’s closet now. It didn’t match the neo-post modernistic classical style of her midtown studio. She tried arranging a leopard print throw over it ever so carefully so that it achieved that “tossed on” look, but it never looked quite right to her. She put the throw back over the arm of the zebra print couch that she had ordered from Ikea and had had specially upholstered in a trendy new shop in the village. She paid almost twice what the couch was worth to have the authentic looking faux fur cheaply stapled over it. She decided that the bad workmanship gave it a “found at the Salvation Army” look to it, which was preferable only when the item in question was not, in fact, found anywhere near the Salvation Army.
Madeline remarked to the bartender that it was a slow night. He smiled politely to her and took one of the four orders coming to him. Madeline watched the bartender sweet talk the customers into purchasing the more expensive liquors, and then pour them into pretty shaped glasses, mixing them with pretty colored beverages. The bartender always got big tips. Madeline read in Cosmopolitan how much to tip her bartender, but she always went over that limit. Madeline read in Cosmopolitan that it’s good to go over the normal tipping amount.
Madeline stared at the drinks in the strangers’ hands, watched them laughing and getting slowly more red in the face. She pulled her compact out of her purse and checked to make sure that she still appeared cool. Madeline took another sip of her cosmo, the fourth one of the night, and put the compact back into her purse, grabbing a cigarette while she was at it. She leaned forward on the bar, placing the cigarette between her lips, and started to seductively ask the bartender for a light, as she had read to do in In Style. Before the words came out, though, she realized that another woman had sat down next to her and was already engaging the bartender in conversation.
Madeline took another sip and sighed, lighting her own cigarette. She listened to the woman order a cosmopolitan. Madeline looked down at her drink, and then glared at the woman. The woman grasped the martini glass in one hand and regarded her drink, mentioning to the bartender that she had recently taken a quiz in Harper’s Bazaar about her knowledge of alcoholic beverages and how low of a score she had gotten. Madeline scoffed at her as she took the final drag of her cigarette and stamped it out in the ashtray. She listened to the woman tell the bartender just how many calories one cosmopolitan has, and just how poisonous all of the liquors used are. Madeline sat thoughtfully for a moment, looking at the rows of bottles behind the bartender.
Suddenly, Madeline slammed her drink down, as a revelation came to her. She quickly picked the drink back up, drank the rest, and slammed the empty glass down again. Madeline knew to never waste a drink that a lady has paid for herself.
Madeline got down from the bar stool, grabbed her bag, and walked out of the bar. She had discovered from that woman, who had read in Harper’s Bazaar, that alcohol was quite poisonous, and it was poisoning everyone in that bar. Madeline thought about how she no longer wanted something in her body that made her red in the face. Although she had bought a new blue-greenish powder to eliminate any extra redness in her skin tone, she didn’t want to solely rely on makeup to make her beautiful. Madeline wanted to be beautiful on her own, and promised herself that from now on there would be no more junk food, no more alcohol, no more cigarettes.
Madeline got to her apartment and slipped out of her black skirt and lacy gray camisole. She took off her eye makeup with eye makeup remover and her foundation and lipstick with makeup removing cloths. She then washed her face with three different types of oil-removing and blemish fighting products, although she had never really had any acne problems. She brushed and flossed her teeth for five minutes, put on her sleep tank and pajama pants and slipped under her Egyptian cotton sheets in Martha Stewart green. Madeline pulled her hair out from under her head and arranged it carefully on the pillow around her. She thought of her new lifestyle she would start tomorrow and smiled to herself as she listened to her “Sounds of Nature” compact disc. It didn’t really help her sleep, but Madeline had read in Elle that it calmed you. She was still waiting to feel calm while listening to it.
Madeline got up the next morning and threw away all of her non-essential makeup. She put on the thinnest layers of foundation, eye liner, mascara, lip liner, lipstick, and blush, so that it would appear that she just had a natural beauty. Madeline decided that she wouldn’t develop a natural beauty for at least a couple of weeks after her new lifestyle began, and still wanted to look her best. So, makeup, at this point, was essential, though it was to still appear that she had nothing on at all. Next, she threw away all the food in her house. She went to the health food store and bought all organic fruits and vegetables, herbal medications and vitamins, a healthy living cookbook, and tofu. She didn’t quite know how much tofu would be enough, so she bought a two-and-a-half pound brick, thinking that it would last her at least a couple of meals.
Madeline went uptown to a couple of boutiques she had seen on Entertainment Tonight that catered to those looking to work out and still look good. She bought three silk track suits and one velveteen one with a matching purse. She purchased running-style shoes and a sports bra-style top, both with less support and extra pretty accents. Madeline went to the hairdresser and had her hair done up in a lovely ponytail to work out in.
Madeline went home and read her new cookbook and decided on making a tofu-based dish, with the organic strawberries and corn she had bought as the main ingredients for the dish’s relish. It all seemed like something bought at a fancy restaurant, and the portion was small enough for her to believe that that was exactly where she was. As the relish mixed and the tofu fried in an organic apple sauce oil substitute, she tried on all four of her new track suits, deciding on the pastel purple silk one. She slipped on her running shoes and put on the sports bra top with the jacket zipped up halfway over it.
Madeline placed her meal on her fiesta wear-style plate with the built in chips in the paint (a garage sale-type item, purchased through a catalogue she especially liked, specializing in over-priced shabby-chic and old-looking merchandise) and sat down at her Mahogany table for six. Madeline lived alone, but wanted to know that she’d always have room for company, though she had had none since the day she moved in four months ago.
Madeline placed some of the tofu-strawberry-corn mixture into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully. She read in Glamour that it was always best to look thoughtful when eating something for the first time, never overly satisfied nor displeased. Even though she was eating alone in her apartment, she stuck to this rule. After the first bite was thoroughly chewed and swallowed, Madeline threw the dish away. Although she made it a point to never throw away a meal for which she had paid, she found herself rather disinterested in tofu as a whole, and rather disgusted by the combination of strawberries and corn. She craved a cigarette and a cosmo, but promised herself to go to the new gym down Park Avenue that night to sign up for a membership.
Madeline entered the doors to the brightly lit machine-filled room and admired all of the glistening young male and female executives, in their mutely colored, expensive workout gear. She talked to a representative of the gym, who gave her a three-and-a-half month trial membership for $550 a month, provided she would only utilize the space two days a week. Madeline was happy to sign and walked right upstairs to the track to start her new exercise regimen.
Madeline watched several women speed walk past her, and then a man jog past them, on a cell phone. As she looked on, she decided that she would be best to try the speed walking, because it seemed more easy to get into, and less likely to make her break out in too much of a sweat. She had not brought her track suits to the dry cleaners to have them treated for water damage yet, and did not want any of the silk to be ruined before the end of her first day as a healthy young professional.
Madeline stood on the side of the track, stretching as attractively as possible (nothing that appeared too strenuous), preparing herself to step into her new healthy way of living. As she placed her foot on the bright pink rubbery floor, she thought of how well that color suited her favorite drink and how well the off white color of the running shorts the man passing her was wearing suited her favorite type of cigarette. Madeline thought about how much she had hated the tofu, and how the had a feeling that the track suits were going to go out of style soon. She thought about how she really hated the ponytail on her.
Madeline pushed through the doors of the new gym and stepped into a cab to bring her back to her apartment, deciding against walking home since she had already worked out enough for one day. She took a quick shower and styled her hair, and then grabbed the box in the bottom of her refrigerator holding her reserve supply of Mac makeup, which she had neglected to throw out earlier that day. She got herself ready and left the apartment, hailing another cab to bring her back to where she belonged.
Madeline walked confidently through the doors of her favorite bar, signaling the bartender for a cosmopolitan and a light. She shimmied onto the bar stool, playing with the hem of her denim-style skirt. She looked around the room for interesting men and saw all of them with other women. All the faces around her were getting increasingly red from the poison they were consuming and she checked her face in the compact to make sure she still looked cool. Madeline sipped her cosmopolitan and told the bartender that she once decided to give up drinking. It was a weird time in my life. I felt like I wasn’t going anywhere, she said. The bartender smiled politely and handed her another glass. Would you have missed me if I had never come back? she smiled, flicking the cigarette seductively, as she had read to do in Vogue. Wouldn’t want to lose one of my best customers, the bartender said with a smile as he looked away to take the next order.
 
     

(1 awakening | i shot kate chopin)

 
i don't know how i feel 
  hyperdonut
 
01:46am 20/01/2004
  stream of consciousnessCollapse )  
     

( i shot kate chopin)

 
announcements and such. 
  hyperdonut
 
12:33pm 08/12/2003
  attention, your attention please. xxlessavyfavxx and frnkensteinchic now have posting privileges! woo! *clap clap* if anyone else wants to post stuff on here let myself or elizaespana know. whee!  
     

( i shot kate chopin)

 
Comment, if you please. 
  ptuscadero
 
04:37pm 30/07/2003
 
mood: working
Looking out at the sunset like the ones you see in movies, she remarked on how the sky looked like a painting. And how there must be a God. And I agreed, and she was my only friend. Side by side we drove off of our mountain, into a world that no longer belonged to either of us. She was my only friend, and I loved her, and these car rides were not the only thing we knew. Though, for those two or three hours that seemed so. And as we drove along, her feet and hands in autopilot, taking the car and us to where we were going, we spoke, and ate, and argued, and sometimes slept. And when the company of one another was no longer enough, we had the radio to give us things to listen to and to talk about. And I told her that I love her and she told me that I was her only friend. I remember her blonde hair falling limp onto her forehead and the back of her neck. And it was okay to not be perfect sometimes, and I put my feet up on the dashboard.
With forty-four ounces of diet soda apiece we’d make our way out of the county, sometimes, twice a week. And the way she drank hers annoyed me and I tried not to do it, and vowed never to drink like her. And I think that day, as I sipped from the straw in the center of my mouth, she stopped being my only friend.
It was a small and not so gradual change. From friend to not friend, fueled and fanned by the extensive amounts of time I spent with her. Time that before we were both glad to share that was becoming a loathed thing somewhere between habit and punishment. We endured, and since I couldn’t so easily tell her what was wrong, I made up other reasons to for being estranged. Maybe I wasn’t even sure for myself why I needed to push her away. But every mangled sentence reminded me of my own. Every gesture that spoke of ignorance and poverty were not just hers but mine. And then I thought of the others.
I thought of the people whose life she had touched and who had become her over time and I feared being one of them. Feared losing myself to what they called family. And so I changed and rejected things that were important to her in the name of individuality, behind the mask of innocent curiosity. And she rejected my rejection and said that she loved me. And she spoke of how I used to be her only friend and how there must be a God. And I agreed but looked longer at the sunset than she did. Expecting it to be my only friend. And I became angry with her for finding fault in the way I live. And I lived in secret and only out loud when I knew she was listening. And I threw my rejection at her like the Bible. And I was angry because she had God, and mother had me, and Cherol had Omar, and I had nothing. And I was cherished simply for my obedience. And I hated being lauded for being the blind sheep, for following. I dyed my wool black and took myself to a city where there are no mountains to drive down from. And I became New York and embodied those things my family had stood against for years.
And I dared them to stand against me. The black sheep never cries wolf. He listens to noise, reads filth, and participates in grand orgies of psuedo-politics and unmerited complaints. Some complaints were merited, I admit. But, I made new friends. In bottles and vials and strangers’ pillows I found sunsets. And she only hoped that God would find me.

It’s hard not to be her friend anymore. This calls for a new kind of love. One that is void of car rides and laden with secrecy, double standards, and phone calls. And I miss being her friend; but hate car rides, and dogma, and things she gives that can’t be eaten or spent. It’s okay, though, real loves is never dependent on getting along. It was about four years before she realized what had happened to me; that I had left her behind. Or at the very least, it had been four years before she mentioned anything of it to me.
Finally the mistrust that was only ever alluded to in high school, when we lived together, was purged in an emotional tirade of spit and tears and silence. And I thought then, how she used to be my friend, and felt like she still was. And when I allowed her to go from stranger to friend, I was able to label her anger as betrayal. She became the friend that called me a liar, the friend that accused me of stealing. And I cried and denied.
I told her that she was no longer my friend, and she reminded me that she used to be my only friend. I blacklisted her and told her and made my once best friend into an acquaintance with which I dealt with as infrequently as possible. And I loved my acquaintance immensely.
 
     

(1 awakening | i shot kate chopin)

 
listen up 
  elizaespana
 
02:43am 07/07/2003
  If somebody doesn't start fucking posting in this thing, I'm gonna kick everyone's ass in this room. (Oh, and if you're not a posting member yet, just e-mail me. I promise I won't yell. ;) jane@imaginaryselves.com)

less than three
 
     

(6 awakenings | i shot kate chopin)

 
my new emo-cappella lyrics 
  ptuscadero
 
08:17pm 01/04/2003
 
mood: fine. [ :0 )
someone, please stop the trian
i think it's time that i take aim
point the gun at some one other than myself.
someone, please stop the train
i'm not going to get off
but then again neither is anybody else

baby wish me luck
i think we both know that i'm fucked
hating me is getting me for the very last time
baby, hold me like you used to
just to let me know you think
that i'm the only one who's special
you're the only one who cares.
 
     

( i shot kate chopin)

 
maybe frustrated 
  hyperdonut
 
01:19am 08/12/2002
  i have no
mouth and i must
     scream?

instead;
i smirk or
roll my eyes.
"yeah that's crazy,"
or, "wow that's funny"
because i can't
really say anything
else, or
i'm not really
permitted
to

i wonder why it is
i get this information
from you;
or do i?
i wish i didn't like it
or  c r a v e  it
like i do
 
     

(1 awakening | i shot kate chopin)

 
mindful 
  hyperdonut
 
02:40am 02/12/2002
  'would you still love that mouth
if such harsh words spewed from it?'
pondering, aching
nyquil for the cold
chardonnay for the soul

'would you still want that tongue
if it tickled vitriol
instead of soft flesh?'
wondering, recognizing
maybe it's time to sleep
once again, alone

you are so lucky
you know not the half of it
to traipse around as you wish
and have no one question it

to be so naive
and maybe that is a turn-on
to be so powerful
in such a situation

in this game, if that is what it is
perhaps, more accurately, an
extended party, one last hurrah
you know not what you leave in your wake
more than an accident, less than a mistake

'would you still miss those lips
if ever the truth
did pass their threshold?'
understanding, finally
to be better for it
and someday over it
but never the same
 
     

(1 awakening | i shot kate chopin)

 
the perfect boy 
  ptuscadero
 
06:18pm 15/11/2002
  He takes off his glasses
and I take off mine
folding in the arms and piling them up
on the nightstand near our bed

holding hands under the pillow
he whispers a goodnight
barely voiced, barely audible
into my freshly washed forehead

his speech impediment makes me love him
and has rubbed off on me
as if every time our tongues touched
I took a little with me

freshly brushed teeth clink together
in an awkward kiss
of two people too tired
to coordinate mouths

my finger tips brush over delicate chest hair
lingering near the heart and the line
where pectoral bulges away from rib
hearty thigh against hearty thigh

his sleepy sigh reminds me of how we met
and the sigh he gave
at his sisters wedding
when he discovered the champagne was flat

and the sigh I gave at the mall
when i discovered we wear the same size shoe
and decided it was fate
like cinder(f)ella at the ball

tonight, we sleep
though sex will come later
and often
it's not all we have

we have our morning cup of coffee
and our heated debates
and our walks with the dog
that he got me for our first anniversary

tonight we sleep
because tomorrow is Christmas Eve
and tomorrow our mothers
are coming into town to bless our union

and his father who took me fishing
to make sure i was man enough
for his favorite son
and first born child

remembering this, I squeeze his hand under the pillow
and he nods and smiles and turns to the side
and we spoon in our bed
and our bodies say a prayer

I'm almost asleep now
he won't be until he knows that I am
but I'm already dreaming
and not of him

And when i tell him this tomorrow
on Christmas Eve with our families preparing dinner
his mother will smile and ask him when we're going to have a baby
and my mother will laugh in accordance

and although our lives are far from perfect
we can understand and share our pain
and make it through each day together
and make it through each night together

and as I fall asleep
the warmth that we share grows
and in my dreams
I smile
 
     

( i shot kate chopin)

 
jonny 
  ptuscadero
 
03:09am 31/10/2002
 
mood: in need of help
remember that time i said "no one close to me ever walks away happy"?
and you said "well, i don't want to walk away." remember that?
remember the hard floor beneath us. me sad, you worried.
my tears and your invited pokes? you said you didn't want to walk away.
and you are.
walking slowly away. and not that i blame you.
or me. or anything either of us control.
but sure as shit, there you go.
smiling all the way. you haven't turned your back,
and so you look, and wave, and smile that smile
with those teeth and your eyes all bluegreygreen.
something is pulling you away.
and i'm not sure i'm pulling back.
not pulling or pushing.
just watching. and smiling when i have the energy.

when the weight of the world isn't crushing my soul.
when the weight of my soul isn't crushing your world.

you shouldn't be so perfect. everything shouldn't be telling me that you're right for me.
and if you are, than why can't i have you?
and if i can than why don't i?
and if i do then why can't i tell?
does this happen to ayone else? or am i the only one whose dreams come true?
am i the only one afraid to hurt.
am i the only one who can never touch what i have.
 
     

( i shot kate chopin)

 
 
  ptuscadero
 
02:30am 21/10/2002
 
mood: worried
you're going to go into your room and shut the door. trust me about the door, it'll make you feel a little better once you start. if you suspect that anyone may be coming into your room, you should lock the door. don't barricade it or do anything else that may cause alarm or suspicion to people on the other side of it. cleaning the room isn't a bad idea. you at least want to make your bed, this is imperative. you're going to want to be comfortable and in a state where your mind is able to wander without too much worry or distraction. if you want the lights off, that's fine. if you want music on, that's fine, too. but keep the volume as low as possible, to avoid distraction. make sure the room temperature is cool and comfortable. somewhere between 69 and 72 degrees is ideal, it's important that you are not hot, even if you usually prefer a warmer environment. but you also don't want to be too cold. you are about to kill yourself and you want these last few minutes to be as comfortable as possible.

once the room is in order your next concern is going to be your person. make sure you've eaten. contrary to what movies and television may have you believing, your last meal should not be a large one. your best choices are light foods like chicken and pork, with simple sides of rice or vegetable dishes. season lightly with fresh or dried herbs and stay away from overly fatty or overly dense foods. things such as these will increase your chances of vomiting, which is not something you want. also keep in mind that the food you eat will not be in you for more than a few hours, as one of the less popular side effects of dying is evacuation of the bowels. if you desire, it is even advisable to eat a larger meal the night before and use the toilet in the morning. it is also important to stay away from any drugs; including medicines, tobacco and alcohol, as these will all disrupt the way your system reacts to the lack of oxygen. if you must smoke do so well before you bathe.

i recommend taking a bath or shower shortly before you begin. washing your hair with an herbal therapy shampoo might serve to make the whole experience more pleasurable as well. you may sweat a little once you've started, so if you have long hair you may want to pull it back, away from your face. this is not a necessity, but, stray hairs may become a bother after while. next, you're going to brush and floss your teeth. this may seem odd at first, but remember that your own breath will be all you smell for the rest of your life. sugary or extra minty toothpastes may also cause an undesirable odor, and should either be rinsed out completely, or avoided all together. once you're sufficiently clean and refreshed, you can focus on dressing. any comfortable clothing will do. tight or restrictive clothing is not recommended on the basis of comfort, but certainly will not hinder the process at all. some like to dress up, knowing that this will be how they are last seen. others, however, prefer pyjamas, in order to be found in a state more like sleep. the clothing you choose is really more out of consideration for those you expect to discover you than anything else, but it's something to consider. it may not be a bad idea to wear something with hip or rear pockets if you fear you may have a sudden lapse of willpower, but in any event you can always just lay on your hands.

once your dressed, you can choose a plastic bag. It's not a bad idea to do this in advance, but i like to think that it adds to the ritual if you wait until you are ready to use it. your best choice is a grocery bag. make sure that it is free of holes by blowing it up and holding it closed, if no air escapes then you are good to go. It's a good idea to try the bag on first. Making sure it's not too big or too small. If too big it may not seal properly, and if too small you will choke before going unconscious, which will be quite painful and unnecessary. Lay in bed with your bag, on your back with out covers and with or without a pillow. Slide the bag over your head, pull it taught (not tight) against your neck, and secure it behind your head, laying on the ends.

You're going to be excited, but it's important to try and relax. Breath normally through your nose. One of the first things your going to notice is that the bag isn't inflating and deflating very much as you breath. This is normal and a good sign of a good sized bag. I recommend trying to keep your eyes open for as long as you can. You will soon get to a point where you wont be able to keep your eyes open and you may want to know when this point comes. It's here that you can start breathing through your mouth, taking deep, even, and slow breaths. The bag is at this point full of carbon dioxide. Inhaling enough of this will put you in a deep sleep, acting much like "laughing gas" used by dentists, and allow you to suffocate with little or no discomfort.

Within in three minutes you will have closed your eyes for the last time. There's no further instruction from this point. Congratulations, once you've lost consciousness you're as good as dead. You've killed yourself using a clean, easy, and virtually painless method. Do the world a favor and before you begin, write a letter to those you leave behind,. If you are alone write one anyway, you never know who may care that you never knew about. Also consider what you are about to very carefully. Suicide is irreversible, and is bound to be one of the few things you get right on the first try.
 
     

( i shot kate chopin)

 
 
  ptuscadero
 
08:29pm 25/08/2002
 
mood: something
Cet est trop simple.
Plus que je peux accepter.
J'avais besoin de quel que chose complexe.
Tu n'as pas ce que je besoin.
Tu n'as pas rien que je veux ou voudrais.
Mais, pour quel que raison, quel que raison que je ne le sais pas
Je tu veux.
Tout de tu.
Et tout de ton rien.
Tout de ton rien...
 
     

( i shot kate chopin)

 
early summer mornings on the lawn outside our house 
  ptuscadero
 
01:21am 31/07/2002
 
mood: blah
Mark stared into the perfect pink sky. "Sure is a nice sky out, tonight." "Huh?" was the answer he got. Undaunted he continued staring. And pondering. And commenting. "The clouds are so puffy and pink." "Yeah," Was all the reply he got. He didn't mind. He just lay back and relaxed, and let the feelings take over him. Mark tried to ignore the silence, and listened only to the rhythmic crushing sounds his back was making on the grass. He wondered if Joseph was done. He had no reason to believe that he was, but wondering was fun, and so he let himself do it for a little while longer. As the sun was setting he saw it reflected in Joe's eyes, and wanted to say something. Something about how pretty it all looked, in the summer, on their lawn. Something about the way the blue and gold in the sky interacted with the blue and gold in Joe's eyes. But he didn't want to interrupt again. Joseph looked pretty intent on finishing his job. He went back to listening to the grass, and wondrend if his naked back was crushing any living creatures, and shifted, ever so slightly, at the thought, but rested back into the same old position before long. Joseph grunted as if to say "you're not crushing anything, just lay here and be with me." There was something familiar about this. And of course, why wouldn't there be? It wasn't their first summer with the lawn. It wasn't their first kiss. Their first anything. But Mark felt oddly at ease. Like it was all too familiar. Like Joseph's panting was getting boring and the only thing different was the shapes the clouds were making in the sky. Joseph went to kiss him, but he wasn't paying attention, and so just lay there with his mouth hanging open. He felt bad after a while, and after he remembered having done it before, felt even worse. He wanted to make Joseph happy. He wanted to be happy. He lifted his head up, to see the sky in Joe's eyes from another angle. This one wasn't much better. And then Joseph closed his eyes. Mark followed suit. It wasn't the first time they had been on the lawn. Wasn't the first time Joe had drill fucked Mark. But it still seemed so foriegn to him. Joe didn't even recognize the smell of the grass anymore. And as he dug his toes into the earth beneath him, he smiled, to find that it was the same shade of cool it had always been, on those summer afternoons. Joe looked at the way the clouds reflected in Marks eyes and wanted to say something about how the gold and green of the sky intercted with the gold and green of Mark's eyes. But he couldn't seem to catch his breath. And Mark sighed as if to say, "it's okay, I know you love the sky and me, know just lay here and be with me." Joe went to kiss him and his lips fell into Mark's open mouth. He felt bad, like he was interupting something again. That was the third time and he was beginning to think that maybe Mark doesn't love him anymore. He looks away and coninues drill fucking. Mark looks so serene and he wants to tell him how beautiful he is, but he's afraid to break the spell, so he just ponders. Ponders what it would be like if he were alone again. And he shifts his weight on to his elbows, as if to say "I'm glad I'm not alone anymore." And Mark just laughs. Not out loud, but in the way he wiggles his arms up around Joe's neck. Joe wonders if he's finished. He has no reason to think that he is, but it's fun to wonder so he toys around with the idea a little more. Mark asks him if he's done, and he says "yeah. but I just want to lay here." "inside me?" mark asks. "Yeah" is all the reply he gets.
 
     

( i shot kate chopin)

 
pool 
  elizaespana
 
03:09pm 30/07/2002
  It started in the pool.

It started as the water splashed on my face as I swam to the edge to climb out. Running for the towel because the sun was starting to set and it was colder out than in.
He was singing the end of I Didn't Understand and I was trying to dry off as slowly and as noiselessly as possible so I wouldn't miss any of it. He finished and ducked below the surface. I settled back into the chair and grabbed for the pack of cigarettes I had found on the floor in the kitchen. No idea whose they were, but there was one left and I needed to be warmer than I was, so I lit one and closed my eyes. The towel started to fall down the arms of the chair, but I suddenly got too tired to bother putting it around my own arms again.
It started in the pool where I heard a faint splash and wondered if he was coming out or going in. I felt ready to fall asleep when I had this sensation that my hand was now empty and it left me with this incredible sense of dread, like the whole world would burn down from my cigarette. And it wasn't even mine to begin with. I just found it, is all.
I started shivering as I had when I first got out of the pool and opened my eyes, stepping out of my half-sleep state to him kissing me. The pool water was colder than I remembered it being and put my feet up on the chair. He stepped back and put a cigarette in his mouth. My cigarette. That cigarette. He was shaking a bit from the cold, so I threw him my towel and wrapped my arms around my knees. The sun was officially gone and I could see little more than that faint glowing coming from his mouth. He turned to me and asked if I was going back in. I looked over at him without saying anything because he looked so perfect, cigarette in his hand, hoping I understood what he meant. He said that I had to have remembered why he surprised me coming out of the pool and I finally answered him because I had to and said of course I remember Goodbye, Columbus and was amazed that he had because it was over four years ago we had that class together and he didn't surprise me all the much anyway.

It started in the pool. I was his Brenda and he was my Neil. I grabbed the cigarette from his mouth and got the last drag before bending down in the dirt lining the walkway to stamp it out. And watch as all of the tiny red spots disappeared.

It stopped in the bedroom where I pulled underwear and a tank top on and never even reached the pajamas on my bed before the phone rang.
It stopped in the bedroom when the phone rang. He put his arms around me and I stopped listening to the woman on the phone, so I had to ask her to repeat herself. And all I know is that I definitely said hello. And one moment, please.
The hallway to the living room was longer than I remembered and my feet turned in as I walked. I still hadn't put pajamas on and would've gone back to get them but I had left him waiting and the hallway was getting longer the more steps I took. And my feet were turning in so much that they turned around and slowed me down.
The farther I walked, the less I could remember that he was sitting on my bed, looking through a box of old books for Goodbye, Columbus.
It stopped in the bedroom and he stopped in my bedroom, humming Lullaby and leafing through pages. He stopped in my bedroom when I finally reached the living room and blindly jabbed the phone in my mother's direction. I think she may have asked who it was and why I wasn't looking at her. I think my eyes were blue that day. Bluer than normal. I think they were losing all their other color. I turned and started the trip back, never flinching at the sounds I was hearing on the way.

It stopped in the bedroom, where he bolted out when he heard screams and went running to see if my mother was okay. He didn't stop to look at me. There were no screams in the hallway. Screams take priority. He only hesistated when I said I'm going for a swim, Neil. He only hesitated for a second because it had already left him and he didn't know to whom I was referring.

It ended in the pool.
It ended in the pool where I didn't bother to put the wet bathing suit back on. I still hadn't put my pajamas on and I walked down the dirt lining the walkway, picking up what was left of my cigarette. Our cigarette. I managed to light it again as I sat back down in the chair. It seemed to last forever, longer than the hallways. Longer than the screams.

It ended in the pool while he was still inside and probably would be till the screams had ended, which they never would. I had to surprise myself, so I jumped to hear that little crack of water. I floated for a few minutes till I could no longer hear her screams and decided to wait patiently till he showed up outside. To surprise me. To stay out here until my screaming stopped. Until the serenity of floating finally hit me. Until my cigarette finally burned the world down.
 
     

( i shot kate chopin)

 
 
  elizaespana
 
06:13pm 27/07/2002
  sometimes I don't believe you
your insistence that
things have worked
themselves out
sometimes i don't believe you
maybe this is all
made
up
to make my problems
seem more important
and yours
seem
like nothing
sometimes i don't believe you
and that way that you look
at me
with compassion
in your eyes
and the fact that
my life
was perfect
perfection
and nothing has ever
tainted that
ever
sometimes i don't believe me
 
     

(2 awakenings | i shot kate chopin)

 
uneasy 
  hyperdonut
 
03:29am 27/07/2002
 
mood: uncomfortable
i hate this feeling
this uneasiness
discomfort
that sets in
and is so hard to shake
sometimes i see it coming
as if maybe i could side-step it
or outrun it
but i can't
it covers everything
and i can't proceed
until it lets me be
oh, if only it were that easy.
 
     

(1 awakening | i shot kate chopin)

 
More sucky magnet poetry... 
  ptuscadero
 
09:21pm 13/07/2002
 
mood: sore
I've had this wierd writers black that's keeping me from actually starting anything of my own...but I've needed to write.

I want you / you want he / not me / not change / long summer if you are not here / for me / every hope is kind / every kind of hope / I dance for you / as you smile to this love / not me / not the other / I are the other / I are to want you / maybe love you / not you / you want what he gave / this is where I walk off
 
     

( i shot kate chopin)

 
Since no one else posts here anymore... 
  ptuscadero
 
05:57am 13/07/2002
 
mood: drained
Yeah, it's online magnetic poetry, if it sounds all wierd and sucky...


your favorite kind of pretty / not perfect like me / he is your favorite kind of pretty / I hope for love / it is not what you want / this is where we all change / if I were he and he were I and you were us maybe / maybe / we dance slow / love short / draw this smile on like some loud art / this is where we all change
 
     

( i shot kate chopin)