| hip hip hooray |
[03 Jan 2009|06:04pm] |
|
In the spirit of the new year I would just like it noted that I have made some great strides this past year. I like myself much more thanks to the passage of time. I also have six wisdom teeth instead of four, which I think should merit some sort of award. Three cheers for intellectual development!
|
|
| damn my bilaterian tendencies |
[07 Dec 2008|01:31pm] |
Sometimes when my brain starts a thinkin' an' a wanderin' an' a runnin'
I just want to take the ol' thing out
an' kick its ass
|
|
|
[29 Nov 2008|02:04am] |
|
I am sick of psychoanalysing myself, but I cannot help it. I've come to realize that I am still carrying the woman when I should have left her on the shore. A little late to realize, but a realization nonetheless.
|
|
| popsicle sticks |
[15 Nov 2008|04:21pm] |
I had a peculiar dream the other night. I was in an apartment eating a popsicle. It was one of those banana flavored double popsicles. I never understood the appeal of a banana flavored popsicle. Anyway, popsicle companies tend to print childish riddles or jokes on the popsicle sticks. My banana flavored double popsicle had the most pecular riddle: "how many stitches can you fit inside a racecar?" I was perplexed. I stood there devouring this frozen yellow treat in anticipation of an answer, which is usually printed on the popsicle covered part of the stick. However, when it came time for my popsicle to reveal the answer, I awoke from my dream.
I don't know how many stitches you can fit inside a racecar, but I should like to find out.
|
|
| angry |
[12 Nov 2008|07:27pm] |
I am very, very angry.
The library makes me angry.
Japan makes me angry.
My friends make me angry.
Higher education makes me angry.
Writing makes me angry.
I am so angry.
|
|
| the most optimal date of my existence |
[06 Sep 2008|04:15pm] |
After a day of discussion about the demise of our nation and a few rushed uphill bike rides, I was whisked away by a tall handsome man in a borrowed car. When we arrived at his lair he quickly lit the candles and removed his boots, the sexiest fucking boots. Irish whiskey was poured, the apple was lit, and the Beatles were rocking on vinyl. I was overcome with euphoria.
And it kept getting better.
|
|
|
[03 Sep 2008|12:09am] |
bah, I'm drunk.
I played the best game ov scrabble because of the wine.. alcohol not only loosens my tongue but also my vocabulary.
Even so, I'm upset because I won't be gettin any sugar tonight. My hottie wid a body is on the other side of town asleep in his bed without me. Damn.
So, I am attemptimg to do some reading: The Post-American World by Fareed Zakaria, who I would like to call Frank and not Fareed.
But why in hell am I trying to read in this state? So here I am on livejournal, giving my first post in forever, having the most difficult time of my life spelling words correctly, and not giving a fuck about the obligations of tomorrow. I'm sure I'll regrett this post in the morning.
GOOOOOOOOODnight everone.
ANd I lost my green stuff and I miss you.
|
|
|
[27 Jul 2008|06:11pm] |
I usually tend to avoid spilling my feelings into this little box, but at the moment I am feeling especially feely and I have the time to fill this little box with those feely feelings.
For the past few months my life has been a shape shifting shade. Entirely all ties to my past self had been severed when I left the church and ended a long relationship with a boy. Since then I feel as life has become one big experimental journey in the search of myself. I feel like a goldfish who grew in a fish tank and I finally managed to flush myself down the toilet and into the ocean. I have no anchor. I meet a new person and absorb their admirable qualities. I am a mesh of other personalities and therein lies the core of my being.
It seems odd that one would not find companionship among so many amiable companions. I suppose it takes time and I am impatient. For now, I will continue to float in the sea of life and drift among the waves until I gather enough debris to become a continent.
|
|
| The Endless Afternoon |
[18 Jun 2008|10:23pm] |
Swirls of chocolate and dots of sweet
Make an endless afternoon.
Where moment and moment never meet
And I hardly feel ground touching my feet.
There's something green in my chocolate swirls
On this endless afternoon.
My dots of sweet have turned into pearls
And the eyes of my mind burst into twirls.
|
|
| a dream |
[12 Jun 2008|01:43pm] |
I had dream last night. I was in a big Italian church, you know the kind that are all grandiose and shiny. Well, I was sitting with a bunch of Christians and they were all talking about Jesus and singing songs and such. I felt really left out. So I started singing a song about Satan. I wasn't trying to worship Satan, I don't even think he is real, but I was trying to show the others that they sound no different than someone who would worship Satan or the Flying Spaghetti Monster or whatever god people worship. I thought it was interesting to see how my spiritual frustrations had manifested themselves into a dream.
Also, here is the first verse of the Satan song I was singing, it's the only bit I could remember:
Satan Satan he likes you
he'll melt your eyes into a goo
|
|
| Italia to Eire |
[26 May 2008|09:41am] |
|
I am currently sitting in a chair, which is sitting on the floor, which is sitting on Rome. I have been in Italy for the past two weeks and it has been full of ancient ruins and plenty of wine. Tonight I leave for a week in Ireland to reconnect with old friends and drink lots of Guiness and whiskey. When I get back to the states I plan on telling many stories of my great adventures abroad. Until then.
|
|
| waking life |
[11 May 2008|01:31am] |
I am starting to feel that Becca is much like Stéphane from The Science of Sleep, which is a good movie so go watch it and see how I feel. My dreams and imagination are interfering with my ability to interact with reality. I think this is because I have been sleeping irregular hours in irregular places. My couch is my bed and my bed is my couch. I am essentially homeless and lonely. And this is why that fine line between dreaming and reality has broken.
Here are other reasons why I can’t sleep or stay awake:
1. I stole Kurt Vonnegut Jr. and Jorges Luis Borges from the library, on accident, and I haven't been able to return them, which apparently is weighing on my conscience.
2. I have been devoting much of my time to reading and reading and reading, which greatly influences the way I perceive and act in the world around me.
3. I am in the habit of riding a bicycle through town, on sunny days, with wind in my hair, and sunglasses on my face.
4. I have been drinking excellent teas and I often find tea drinking to be a very transcendent experience.
5. I watched Interstella 5555 again and now I want to travel to outer space.
6. Tomorrow I am leaving the country, which isn’t outer space but will be close enough, and I haven't packed yet.
7. I want some wine but don't have any, though my roommate has some Sangria downstairs, but I don't want grape juice I want wine.
8. I haven’t been able to type the letter x because it has been broken for the past year.
9. I have an abundance of good things to occupy myself with, such as books or films or thoughts, which I haven’t indulged in for quite some time.
10.
I wonder if the inside of my head is constructed of cardboard.
I also wonder if I am really dead and this is all a dream.
|
|
| couchbed |
[08 May 2008|12:37am] |
I am sitting on my brother’s couch with Denali, the deaf Dalmatian, cuddled up beside me. I really like the warmth that my whole left side is absorbing from her. I really like that living things crave the touch of other living things. I really like hugs.
Today I asked my brother what he thought about all of my past boyfriends. He said he never liked any of them. But you know what? I did like them. And I think I will always be slightly jealous of the girls that are privileged to be the objects of their affections.
Denali is dreaming now and I am going to join her.
|
|
| notes |
[06 May 2008|12:14pm] |
School's out. While I was cleaning out my room I came across a box of papers that I was saving. I pulled out the papers one by one and read them. They were all notes from churches that I had attended in the past year, notes that I wanted to put down in a journal somewhere but never got around to doing so. Anyway I read through all the notes. The Significance of the Serpent. Money, Sex, Power. Mr. Right, not Mr. Right-now. Blah Blah. I ended up throwing all of it away. I had thought that these papers held some secret to living a successful Christian, God-glorifying life. I was wrong, except for one of the papers, which contained this:
These notes showed me the emptiness in trying to be.
For a while now I have stopped trying to be and started being. It is great.
|
|
| red |
[30 Apr 2008|12:15am] |
|
The affects of the wine are wearing off. What just happened? It was just a bottle of cheap house wine. There was dancing and laughing. Glass after glass I drifted into the night. My blue dress was tattered and faded. My black heels had been worn down to the sole. My dirty-blond hair was long and unkempt. How long had I been laying on this couch? For years, yes, for many, many years.
|
|
| a raven |
[23 Apr 2008|12:59am] |
I had a dream yesterday. It was while I was taking a nap, which is full of REM, which allows for optimal dreaming capacity, at least in my case. Anyway, I had this dream while I was napping:
There are a lot of strangers in the room. One of them, who I know is in the Mafia, is saying that someone was going to die in five minutes. He is saying that it is the man I am in love with. I don't know how my love crossed paths with the Mafia, but I don't want him to die. I must warn him before it is too late. The door opens to show me a desolate field of jagged rock. I know that the bus stop is just over the distant hills and if I run fast enough I might make it in time. I am running. I don't have any shoes on. I run barefoot across the field of jagged rocks. Why am I running so slow, as if I was underwater, straining every muscle to go propel myself forward as fast as I can? I know that I won't make it in time to warn him. I am dizzy and I can't focus my eyes. I have been drugged in the room full of people. I am full of anxiety.
Wait, this dream is too overwhelming. I need to start over. Okay, what should I be doing? Flying, I am flying. I am a raven.
And that was it. I lost control of it. I dreamed a lot of other things, something about a lake and some boys playing in the water, but I don't really remember. This has been the strangest and most prominent dream in which I found myself, while sleeping, in complete control of what I was dreaming about. I love dreaming.
|
|
| the lady of the ground |
[16 Apr 2008|08:40am] |
rain oh, rain
it comes again
to entertain
the dry terrain
falling down
on my pale crown,
my red stained gown
in which I drown
cold, so cold
my veins unfold
my body sold
for morbid gold
black I see
he comes for me
I cannot flee
death's guarantee
rain oh, rain
it comes again
to entertain
the dry terrain
|
|
| Why must I plug my ears? |
[11 Apr 2008|12:25am] |
Dear Overly Obsessed Friends Fans,
Please do not tell me how upset the last episode of Friends made you. Rachel and Ross are fictional characters, do not be deceived, what they do on the screen is not real life. I am sorry to inform you that you have just wasted 120 hours of your lives following the fictional lives of made-up people. All of you have also spent about 200 dollars to waste those precious hours of your lives. Perhaps you could trade your Friends for some real ones? Then I would not have to listen to you rant about meaningless shit. Thank you for your time, I know how you guys cherish it so.
Sincerely,
Becca
P.S. The tone of your voices is at yelling level, please bring it down about eight levels when you speak to me. Thank you.
|
|
| His name is Avi Jacob and I am in love. |
[08 Apr 2008|03:43pm] |
Late last night I was running away from obligation. I was running away from that part of me that stifles my own spirit. I ran to the bar and when they didn't want me there I ran to Laurelhurst park. That is where I met Avi Jacob.
I was sitting in a wreath of lamplight at the edge of the pond. As I watched the ducks swim and quack in the black water, I heard the strum of a guitar from the other side. A voice began to sing along to the twang of strings. I listened intently to the rise and fall of the voice as it intertwined with the sounds of the guitar. It was a bitter song about an interchange of wrong love between wrong people. Then it stopped. I let out applause from my side of the pond. "This one's for you!" I heard from the voice as the guitar picked up speed. Smiling to myself I decided that I should put a face with this voice. I left the ducks and the lamplight and walked down the dark path, following the music to the other side of the pond. As I came around the corner there was Avi Jacob seated on a bench, in his own wreath of lamplight, guitar in hand.
He continued to sing, not raising his eyes from the strings of the guitar. I sat down on the bench beside him as he played. He was strumming the guitar faster and faster as his song reached an orgasmic peak. I caught his expression; he was caught in the pleasure of the song. Then he stopped and turned to me.
"Hey, I'm Avi Jacob."
His hand extended, the hand that had just ravished the guitar, and I shook it.
"My name's Becca. I'm in love with you..your...your sound."
Ah, I was blushing and he knew it. He smiled.
"I believe in love at first sight too."
I was there and I was gone. I let myself feel the grass on my bare soles, souls. I let myself be caressed by the breeze. I let myself love right and be loved right by Avi Jacob.
|
|
| being for the benefit of mr. mite |
[06 Apr 2008|12:38am] |
Flying Squirrel came to stay
at little Tiger's house today,
or was it night?
Cat was sitting on the chair
and on the couch Koala Bear.
I think that's right.
Turtle sang a lovely song
while Unicorn lit up the bong
with smoke and light.
Squirrel looked around the room
and on the table, bag of shrooms
was in its sight.
Nostrils filled with a sweet scent,
the colors came, the colors bent
it didn't even fucking bite.
|
|
| navigation |
| [ |
viewing |
| |
most recent entries |
] |
| [ |
go |
| |
earlier |
] |
|
|
|
|
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
chewbekka's journal