as if inside our skulls, instead of the brain, we felt a fish, floating, attracted by the Moon.

Friday, February 26, 2010


I'm sitting on the floor in the back of mahar waiting for my class to start.
It's 10:56, my class is at 12:20.
The class that's currently in here is some class on racism, the professor keeps walking through the isles and getting close to me and it makes me uncomfortable.

I diagnosed a woman with hyperthyroidism today in lab.

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

how cliche am I?

Oh god lol. I'm just skim-reading the DSM-IV, don't mind me.

Monday, February 15, 2010

that shit could kill a bus of kids

I just watched 500 Days Of Summer. it made me feel like I should pack up the [bare] necessities and move to the city and get a cheap apartment and start my life over again. drop out of college, work as a waitress, write books of short stories, search for a publisher, publish one or two books, make very little money, stay alive.

I know it wasn't supposed to be a happy movie, but somehow I expected it to be. I was a little bit disappointed. I want to paint the walls of the apartment with stars and galaxies, but I think the woman who owns the building would fine us, so I won't.

Instead, I'll clean the apartment today and paint on the cardboard in the alley way and duct tape it to the walls.


Sometimes I browse through photos on facebook and wish I looked like anyone but me.

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

boring title


That song cracks me up.

poetry shit

breathe in and out: inhale, exhale,
burt stones, dirt, metal, fiber glass;
dry, hot, dry, hot, swollen.
counting steps; dry, hot, swollen;
dark beasts prowling behind the door.
little wooden puppet feet,
scratching, clawing, breaking.
ballerina with skinny wrists licking her fingers, a look is exchanged;
wet hair, cold puppet feet, thick wooden legs, leaning sideways, dripping, watching.
bones wrapped in wire, string attached to the head;
a little wooden puppet
breaking glass, swallowing, turning red;
thick dark curtains, almonds, mirror eyes, peeling paint, creaking;
jostling, shifting, slipping;
a scarecrow, a rag doll, a wooden puppet.
floating head held aloft by a wire, rotating slightly;
falling suddenly: a crashing sound as the wooden limbs crumple in a heap;
smiling: wide, bright, sharp predatory teeth, shadow throat, laughter.
breathe in and out: inhale, exhale: everything is fine,
this is how the world works,
this is how it's supposed to be;
breathe in and out: inhale, exhale: calm down, everything is fine.
little wooden puppet, lacking lungs, barely breathing, exhale, empty.
falling suddenly: a crashing sound as the wooden limbs splinter slightly;
digging debris out of the gaps between the floor boards,
tiny pieces of wood, bits of wire.
shadow throat, laughing, ghostly shadow eyes:
buttons, strings, mirror eyes, pealing paint, grease;
the striking feeling of being lowered into warm water,
or onto a knife blade;
the subtle vibration within the wood.
standing, supported by a wire, watching;
suddenly: a crashing sound as the puppet falls to the floor.

Monday, February 8, 2010

but I love you now that you're six feet underground

this picture KILLS ME because there's actually no way to know the answer to this question, considering how far along we are in terms of interpreting meaning from living brains. we'd need to map the entire fucking thing and compare it to others'. and even then we don't know for certain.

there is no soul. this is a terrible concept. brains are physical things. just because we don't know yet exactly how consciousness is produced from neuronal function it doesn't mean there's a homunculus/soul controlling things. it isn't magic.
one could copy a brain exactly into a computer program and it would think. pseudo-A.I., I guess.

I need to write/paint more often. especially paint. and I really need to stop posting stupid things on blogspot.

I wish I were a more likable person. I'm pretty offensive/awkward in my mannerisms. I'm either way too friendly right off the bat or I'm way too quiet. I wish I knew how to talk to people.

Friday, February 5, 2010


(she's never going to be able to get fertilized for real. it'll stretch the tattoo. maybe that's the point....)