Sunday, January 30, 2011
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
COACHELLA LINEUP
HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE MY LIFE IS COMPLETE
Monday, January 17, 2011
Thursday, January 13, 2011
January 13th
I run my tongue over the enflamed gum above my upper left capsid. My sharp, slimy teeth have never had cavities. I poke the swelling with my tongue. The spongy pain is temporary, caused scraping from the metal pick. I don’t mind the dentist, except for when they dig near my gums.
I need a night guard for my teeth. The upper bone in my mouth is large from clenching, and I constantly have small wounds self inflicted by my own teeth. Yesterday, on my left cheek, I noticed a large gash. But this is normal, I have been chewing the inside of my mouth for years.
Apparently I gnash my teeth in my sleep. I chew my lips, I bite my tongue, I lash out at my poor, quickly regenerating inner mouth cells.
_ _ _
A dead elephant will feed an entire pride of lions for a week. They tear away the dusty, leathery skin, to expose the tough meet. Snarling, gouging, they demolish the elephant. One sits and knaws on the trunk, blood smearing her curling lips.
Elephants and lions need to share the same watering hole, and by day they tolerate each other. But the elephant’s vision at knight is akin to a human’s, and the lions are hungry. Twelve of them stalk the elephant. As he runs, terrified and trumpeting, they leap onto his back, tearing the skin with their wide spread claws, grasping his back as he charges. Clutching onto the sides of his body, all eight sink their teeth into the animal. Twelve sets of lions teeth, twelve pairs of claws clutching at his underbelly eventually slow him down.
_ _ _
The sky is purple in Wisconsin, too, and I never noticed it. Shards of sparkly snow highlight the greying Western sky as I walk home.
_ _ _
Hundreds of geese nest in the plains, splattering the air with the pattern of their white wings. A fox is hunting, attempting to steal some chicks.
It dashes, and chases the hissing parents from their roost. Six fluffy yellow blurs are exposed, and the fox bites the necks of all of them, and then uses the ground to ambitiously scoop all of them up, stuffing it’s mouth with the squealing infants. All six fit in its ravenous mouth, yet one falls out of it’s jowls and runs away, as the parents land on the back of the fox. Breaking, the fox only manages to hold onto the leg of one, and as it escapes, the bird squawks for rescue from it’s parents, who are too busy mourning their other babies.
The fox bounds back to a ledge, where ten fuzzy grey cubs are waiting. It drops the chick and waits as the little foxes pounce on each other for a turn at the chick.
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Inspired by NPR and my mother
I called him crying. I had never cried in front of him before, as it is not graceful. Yes, my mascara looks good smudged, but snot is not attractive.
He was biking across Portland.
I sat against my bed, the dark wooden mattress box jabbing into the center of my back. My spine was split by the corner of the wood, but my body was too exhausted to move.
While I listened to the wind whizz through the phone, I sobbed about my inadequacy. How I wasn’t smart enough, how no one would want me, how I was too dull for any college to want me.
Want me.
_________________________________________________
Cold forces one to feel. Glinting snow shines so bright that it becomes impossible to ignore the potency of the night. In the cold feelings freeze before they have the chance to tumble away.
My fingers would have become frostbitten if I took them out of my pocket to lift a phone to my ear. My snot would have frozen if I entertained the notion of crying.
I don't cry any more.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Saved Money
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Stellar Spark 8
Somehow my best friend managed to score two free tickets to the Girl Talk concert at The Rave.