" sarah palin was set up "

" the english major and writing is a racket, its an incestuous and ingrown perspective and i want you to break out of it "

" internships are a waste of time "

" call me over the weekend to wish me happy thanksgiving so i feel like a mother "

" writing won't earn you any money. earn marketable skills, and try to get a corporate job and make some money or you are wasting time "

happy holidays

love

my mother

dear hippie couple in cafe,

don't mind me while i rummage around to plug in my computer's power cord in the ONLY outlet in the place that you so harmoniously seem to be sitting right on top of. apparently you two are in a class together, and are nuzzling and telling each other how great the other's presentation was, but i really don't feel like personally having to pick your fingers up off each other's bodies and fling them aside to plug in my computer-- which i need because i have to finish writing a piece due tomorrow, which is coincidentally about my hippie parent's divorce and how i sabotage relationships. i considered telling you this, but couldn't even get your attention with a polite "excuse me." as i write this i can hear your pecks and snuggles. and can see you with your legs on each others thighs, facing each other grinning as the one with the ponytail explains something to the one with the feather earrings.

oh my GOD STOP KISSING ITS SO OBNOXIOUS

family business

i think that if you can move large furniture with someone,
the two of you could do anything together

let's start a family

by will oldham

saturday and we sleep late
usually we're up by eight
a swim it calls, a swim awaits
no work to do today
strange how you would stray
and drink and such odd things
this is what the city brings

(doo-doo-doo)

evening calls and old folks fall
the phone is ringing down the hall
i told my friends not to call
that you were getting well
you still refuse to tell
where you'd been out so long
coming home at dawn

(doo-doo-doo)

lately I'm forgotten here
isolated, feeling queer
when you were looking in the mirror
did you see the future's lies
they march right on in time
and straight into the pool
oh so quick and cool

well i'd say its like this: after you've been assaulted with the artificial flavors intrinsic in bubble tea, the subtle flavor of simple black tea with milk and honey pales in comparison.

or is it like using a flash instead of adjusting shutter and speed to best compliment natural light-

and how holding hands is never the same once you grow up. its not as thrilling and significant as when you were a child. it's not as intimate after you've had sex. unfairly so. fuck. is anything?

i never liked it as much as i liked thinking about it.

well thats the thing about comfort

tea in jars,

seattle on the other miles of those rails

and the unfailing thrill of I-5 south

now i see their photos on the streets

and think its acceptable to stay.

hang a dreamcatcher

we'll conquer the south and the east.

balm

amethyst

tangerine

evocative

red wine stains

refrain

paragraph paragraph paragraph

succulent army

can i keep my succulent army alive in here all winter?

im so attached to this old green chair with its orange fleur de lis in its softly shiny weave...grommets and legs, i've had this chair forever, bought at an estate sale, the sale of a woman who's entire house was intact, as it had been in the 1960's, this plush chair slightly smaller, like all the other furniture in the house.

there is nothing more frustrating than the feeling of running after public transportation, whatever from that feeling takes.

i found my old blog, and i dont know the password. i've got to not forget about those entries, or my old journals, or yours, or pictures of you as a child. 

we could live in shytown

but also

trains are set in their tracks

boots crush leaves

better not be there when it rolls over

sundance natural foods

location: sundance natural foods, eugene OR

time: friday of Halloween

current goal: procure delicious organic hippie food

current obstruction: a gaggle of 10-12 year old skate fuckers

kombucha in hand, kenny and i were now onto the task of selecting a wonderful red pepper and i was eyeing those little suckles of wonder- honeycrisp apples when this group of kids came in and was being obnoxious demanding candy (did they want free trade chocolate? NO!) when i noticed that one of them was wearing a huge afro wig and some bling that said "pimp." oh that's pretty offensive, especially for a ten year old. then i looked a little closer to see that his skin had weird streak marks. ohhhh. he was a white kid. in meticulous "black face" - his hands, neck, face, ears . at the age of ten. ohhh. thats REALLY offensive actually. sweet god. 

factually

fact: the portland streetcar takes forever at night

FACT: THE PORTLAND STREETCAR IS NOT REAL

and here is why

it is bougie public transportation for individuals who do not care to take the bus or the max, citing it as "dirty" or "inconvenient"

FACT the streetcar runs from the "up and coming" south waterfront to NW "trendythird" 23rd avenue, next to my residence.

though i have tried to remain impartial, its true, i love riding the bus. now, there are several reasons why i take the streetcar - convenience mostly, its cheaper, and also i do so very much enjoy the fact that it is better for the environment.

i like the concept of the streetcar

BUT I DO NOT ACTUALLY LIKE THE STREETCAR

however, i can accept this because

the portland streetcar is not real.

love - with a dash of whiskey

old loud train

[to] hear you in the night

[to] wake from sleep at 

the sound of your long sad sigh

              ...

comforts me to know

you could wake me to say

you're still moving [and if] only 

to keep the beat 

[and if only] in your own time