30.10.08

pictures

my fingers are covered in glue and glitter and tar gel. im exhausted. fucking beat yo. work is work and im single again. this must be what dreams are made of.









20.10.08

at work

the other day i was standing outside smoking and drinking my coffee and i fell into a state of disarray and imagination where a man would walk buy and throw the coffee and cigarette from my hands and sweep me into a turning dance before leaving me breathless and clueless to who he was. when i snapped out of it i ran inside red in the face, and wishing harder than i have ever wished that this isn't everything, that this is just transition like i'm always trying to convince myself it is, that this current state is going to be drifting off of me soon and that whats left will be worth the time i've spent in this screened sense of abandon and recklessness.

19.10.08

the trick

is to put it out of your mind.

headache, hello again.

mix [the last few days]

My head hurts and I can’t stand the typing anymore. I used to love it. Remember? Used to crave it. Now I only see facts and spell-check and minus this and that for bad grammar and unacceptable punctuation. Oh well. Fuck it. Let’s go.
[There was a whole paragraph full of happy recanting and news of the ever changing ever colorful goings on of nomad Stephanie. I’m lying it was stupid and childish and I’m embarrassed to even mention it. Wait… whatever]
I’ve been dreaming more and more lately. The other night I had a dream where me and Jon and Giselle were caravanning to the desert, trying to reach the end of the world. On the way Jon crashed and Giselle was coughing pieces of glass and when I finally saw the red cliffs of the edge of earth I was grateful. I saw the cliffs and a second later we were parked and they were gone and I was young again and part of a new family who told me to forget all the things I had learned from the center. There were caves carved out of the soft stone and torn curtains hung out of them. I thought of Indians and realized everyone was wearing strange clothing. Grey and black and gold chains winking from behind buttons. I sat in the cool hallway of one of the entrances and this girl walks up and tell me I have to change there’s nothing here I would fit in to and that maybe I should think about walking into the desert to die. She hands me a gold chain with a cross before running away from my baffled face. I’m sad now. Suddenly Dawnelle comes out of no where, oh god I’m so happy to see her, and does she know what’s going on? She says she cant talk her mom is back with him and I have to come with her now. We run to a desolate and empty gas station miles out, with lame fluorescent lights glaring down over sand and rocks and two broken trucks. There her mom and her man stand and hold hands. We reach them just as an old lady walks up and starts to hit Dawnelle’s mom. We jump her and the man runs away. After the old lady leaves we stand around Dawnelle’s mom and tell her how beautiful she is. I wake up.

[continuation]

The other day a girl in my art history class asked me if I would help her study for the exams. I told her yes while shouting what the fuck no in my head over and over again. I didn’t want to do it but somehow my mouth formed words that turned into my phone number that turned into me running out the door while still talking and her waving or something and looking quizzical.
And today a guy sat next to me in the com lab and, poor thing, he must have a disease that makes soap and water feel like acid on his skin.
And then the presentation travesty. God. Here’s me in front of the class about to give a presentation and I forget everything. I stutter and my voice shakes and I literally only say “Take notes and read the paragraphs and uh you uh will be fine. I think. Yea.” Before I run to my seat.
Times like this I need a lot of antacid and a lot of cigarettes and time.
I have none of those right now.
I’m not lonely, just needy.
I need something or someone, but I’m too neurotic to advance searches for either.
There nothing fun about watching someone lie.
Sometimes I wonder if birds want to poop on me.
Work is the shittiest bunch of managers I have ever had.
I want a green tea or something. I feel like I’m gonna vomit.
Whoever thought it was a good idea to package dog food in little TV dinner trays and sell it to me for 69 cents cause you know then ill buy it. Fuck you, you’re an asshole.

Last night I got to close the café allllll by my lonesome. Sweet. I walked out smelling like Satan’s asshole but happy since I got some help from gangsta co-workers.

[continuation]

Something about the sky today reminds me that we live on an actual planet. Dust and rocks and people milling and no one looks at the sky anymore, only each other. The clouds were brilliant in their shape and size and color. And finally there was a breeze and a second for me to puff and sit. Just sit and look up. There are so many birds in the Quarry right now, they swarm and turn in mid air. It’s scary and funny. All those birds. I always wish someone in a beamer had just washed their car. I felt tiny on the bench outside of the store. I felt natural and part of the scenery. It amazes me that we always have a changing work of art right above us but to most it’s simply wallpaper with an old pattern. How is it we get so used to things? Get so tired of them? I’m never tired of the things that need marveling. Things like love and grey skies and the perfect line and a never perfect circle. I dunno. Maybe this is too much for such a frustrating night.
I did make ten bucks in tips though.

[continuation]

I had a dream last night. Of course I was in love, of course I was careless and of course I’m homesick for this dream right now. There was one part of the dream where me and a boy were walking on a street. We were dirty and ragged and we had the sad air of nothing that only street kids have I guess. It was getting late and we had to get somewhere, and it had to be fast for some reason. We met a man behind an SUV and he seemed frustrated and upset but he opened the back for us anyway. The back of the car was full of old foam like from mattresses and dirty sheets. We climbed in and lay next to each other as the man locked us in. He said he would be back for us in the morning. He hugged me and kissed me and I looked into his somewhat familiar face and noticed something weird. He had a contraption over his mouth, metal and round, ad it was an acid blue color. I touched in and he told me that he had just dipped it and it hurt. I held him and we fell asleep. Cut to a supermarket, cut to a classroom, cut to a fight over power and the color crimson and I’m waking up with an aching heart and the realization of yes, I do work today. Fuck.

[more still]

tonight i took alot of pictures in matts backyard. the best way to describe said yard is take a museum full of strange and unrelated items and blow it up, whatever is then dipped in rust and buried halfway in dirt. like a sunken ship except with bottles and can and pipes to nowhere and computer pieces.
beautiful.

my eyes burn but im too busy remembering what it is to blog to care.

your nomad stephanie is safe and calm. the storm is lingering but the wind is slowing. im reading the curious case of benjamin button by f scott fitzgerald. its racist and always romantic. bittersweet and it makes me want to smoke and talk to strangers.
funny, i wrote to someone tonight and said those exact words. lame ass me.

god help me

can i make it through the new week.

3.10.08

queen of apology

yea. not so much anymore.

theres nothing like teasing and drawing anger. like blood it sticks. i think i may have a problem. the masochism is trying to find another place to live since im denying it my skin. i think it may be coming to a head. im blowing things off, walking away and im stuck with this feeling. addicting and powerful.

lets move away from all this now. theres no time.

the world is moving and im stuck with the assholes. friends. is this what they are? [right]

i cant study now. how could you expect me to. im riding the manic part of the chemical imbalance that is my brain waves. im foaming at the mouth. antsy antsy antsy. god help me im ready for a fight, a beat, a clinical movement, a new pace. lts time, pick it up. runnnnn.

oh.

fuck.

what the hell is next. im moving forward but the earth counterbalances and im off kilter.

these thoughts arent coming together as seamlessly as i had hoped. and im stuck watching the debates and wondering what the rest of the nation is thinking. wondering how me and this man in the same room are still friends when every time i nod my head he growls and curses. his hands clench and i hate him a little more. its getting to where i cant stand these people anymore. maybe i just need to move to a cave and stay away. turn off the tv and turn up the music. am i the only girl left with a walkman and 300 wires? batteries.... what are those?
geezus fuck im losing breath.

slow down. the human connection is nothing. this cigarette. nothing. this fantastic anxiety i cant control. nothing. god help me. i may be regretting tonight.

lets see how bad i can make it.

chaos breeds happiness.

at least to me.

and right now, i need to be happy.

1.10.08

moving, messages, and giving them away

i'm a wreck everyone. a straight up hot mess.
no cigarettes or home.
stephanie the nomad is down to the basics.
pulling clothes from the backseat of the car or yelling as i fall down stairs while juggling lamps and cutlery.

great.

i've always enjoyed these trying times. they happen once in a while and always leave me lined and furrowed.

breathe in.

out.

now shut up and get through this.

[sigh]