this is the impossibility of the existence of anything

what a horror it would have been if the world was real, because if the world was real, it would be immortal.

all is here

it gets me
this confusion.
it gets at me
bewilderment of wilder dreams
wanted in 19 different states.
where are you now, lovers and freedom?
you've taken my sanity at much too early
with your pages rusty,
you will learn to heal yourself,
feeding on fire.
you will look at a skyline
and tell yourself that you're the best.
i am learning to meditate because of you
to raise my mind into a median deemed mine.
you go splunking, tumblings towards tastelessness
let me know when you arrive.
you're beginning to look alike.
act
speak
please not feel.
once you feel the same, it's all over.
it's all heavy.
this game of hide and seek has gotten me pale,
although all that's shed on me is
an altered brilliance.
make it grey, i don't mind.
make it addicted and dumbfounded, i don't mind.
i can't decide if you're real.
because all i hear are notes,
all is here.
so kindly step away,
let me breathe in this bubble
before it's popped.

clean room= clean mind

points to make:

-hey if you go to yale, your campus is WAY over the top. and sorry if we messed it up. shenanigans had to be pulled ya big, nervous nerds.

-at sunrise the other day, somewhere in connecticut, three dumb adolescents jumped into the atlantic ocean for "the hell of it". one of which later attained frostbite and had to nurse her feet back to feeling. it hurt. alot. now i understand when jack talks about how cold the ocean is in titanic.

-the walkmen are a very nice, very cool, very drunk group of incredibly awesome, talented musicians. and their tshirts are very easy things to sell. they had two opening bands, one of which was so. good. they invited us to come to a show they were having that friday at a frat at upenn. we were gonna do it. then didn't. injured toes. "the subjects". check em.

-philly is cute. i'd like more of it.

-i'm sorry if i glared at you. the death-stare was not intentional, but i mean, you deserved it. so deal with it.

-it's difficult to smoke all your pot in one day.

gone healthy

i went to boston. :)

monreal fell through. and i had to had to had to get out get out get out. so i went to boston and hung out at tufts for a good few daze and found a nice spoonfull of inner peace. which is doing me quite well at the moment.

currently: listening to joanna newsom and devendra banhart
currently: into green tea
currently: into massachusetts winter woods
currently: meditating
currently: content. fin.

In due time we will see the far butte lit by a flare
I've seen your bravery, and I will follow you there
And row through the night time
Gone healthy
Gone healthy all of a sudden
In search of the midwife
Who could help me
Who could help me
Help me find my way back in
There are worries where I've been
Say, say, say in the lee of the bay; don't be bothered
Leave your troubles here where the tugboats shear the water from the water
Flanked by furrows, curling back, like a match held up to a newspaper
-jn.

tea, bagels and marijuana.

my room smells like it. i'm alright with that. "...an accurate reflection of your personality." thank you for that explanation, chloe. so there's that, and i'm starting to realize how i could so easily freak out right now. right. now. because the only good thing i've got going for me are the bagels my parents sent me. no more montreal. have to take an NS course again. and of course, THAT. and that and that and that. WHAT THE HELL.

shit. i need to not be in the country right now.

nineteen!

it's ok, the view from here
i guess it's independent now.
there is a constant icing on the cake,
when will the sugar stop falling?
my fingernails will be filled with this earth
this earth
this earth
this island in an ocean of stars.
tiny, we barely notice ourselves.
grab a shovel,
dig me.
grab my dirt,
mold it into this earth.
i'll even let you orbit.
it's ok from here.
we'll end up perfect, i can tell.
we'll end up around strangers, just like the beginning.
windows from lofts
laundry dirty
drenched in an automatic beat, encapable to the human ear.
you are beyond it all,
all the stars and voices in their heads,
and those circling little, yellow birds and those goddamn buzzards,
and that puddle narrowly missed, containing an entire little universe of lies.
wretched in our ways, we begin to yield the upmost something,
those branches at the top, deemed crazy
doomed maybe.
you're a regular scratch-and-sniff,
flaky and unexpected, pleasant and guilty, brilliant and tacky,
but never full of tact.
what will we see?
stale cities and immature countries constructed of teen angst.
puberty is a myth.
make us think we grow older,
it's more than physical you know.
it's more than reciting a prayer, you know.
19, stop accusing me. i'm not there yet.
i'm not that kind of ager,
you are deceiving and awkward.
find me spinning under your vinyl,
doped on dreams.

YEAH

hey look, there ARE good things in my life:

-getting into the sold-out philly walkmen concert for FREE! (running the merchandise table SWEET)
-beautiful plural feet of snow outside? yes.
-tai chi works wonders
-"i need to get out of here."
"right now?"
"no. soon though."
"wanna go to montreal this weekend?"
"YEAH."

i am putting my canadian citizenship to good use and leaving the country.

and i can't lift you up, my mind is tired

it's so distant now,
you've become faceless.
i can't tell if you're growing older from here
i can't tell who you are from here
do you have wrinkles now?
are you gone now?
at least you're "better than the last one".
but the last one won't be able to save you this time.

some beautiful place to get lost

all i can do now is focus on the tiny notches in my curtain
all i can see now are the little things
there is no bigger picture
i don't know you
i don't think you were ever real,
did you know that?
it's different now.
no longer a candy coated dream.
not that it ever really was
unbeknownst to me.
there's too much salt
i can't really breath
i've forgotten how
there's nowhere to go
i am stuck in endless deja-vu
circling towards un-discoveries
this whole place is illusion
this whole face is confusion
you don't understand.
i can't type, my ribbon is mirroring the world.
upside down with you.
it's tainted.
it fainted.
so all i have is here. sorry.
i didn't mean for it to be that far.
this is what it's like then,
to get to that point i only hear about.
i already knew, everyone knew
i avoided, they joked
don't look at me now, it's too much.
don't give me that politeness, i can't deal with it.
don't offer me cancer, i can't handle it.
i threw you up last night,
and now i can't eat.

i don't think i miss you anymore.
how can i miss something i don't know?

tell me when i can open my eyes again.

everything you are, you are everything.

sometimes i see you when i close my eyes
sneakers and all, it's meant for an ending less tragic.
a poem less sunken
a gaze less stolen
my skin is only wallpaper,
and you are barely breathing.
they say you won't make it.
dreams of static, clinging to my insides,
constructed of things resembling resemblings.
rumbling through bubble wrap,
you will pop every last one until motionless.
you will understand now, true taoism.
stay still, keep quiet, they won't see you if you don't move.
no, that's not it.
look twice before you forget your good looks,
they'll grey over before the rest of us.
they'll be convinced, convicted of prematurity.
moving through your follicles like those ominous clouds.
like those ominous clouds.
hey you, don't look back.
hey, you'll hurt yourself.
they'll throw stones, they'll throw you out of town.
don't sing those melodies. they're too painful for us mortals.
just find your best friend for us,
find him hiding hiding hiding from the world.
find her standing standing standing with pinkies raised, right in front of it all.
i know you know. i know you see it all through dappled lenses,
made just for you.
what now?
you are everything.






now what?

our particles are in motion

lost and found

i found these scribbled in my notebook this morning (afternoon). words and things kept running through my head last night and i kept grabbing the little guy and scratching up his innards. it's possible the spell of writer's block has been broken. it's possible.

prematurely grey skies.
i quiver beneath you,
between you.
struggling for a late night fix,
dragging ourselves through the offsets of time,
the back streets of infinity.
your chairs are cursive,
your positions perfect.
you are meant to be there.

part 2- the day is habitable

i crouch with rancid eyes
slanted and penetrating your glances.
your visions are saran-wrapped and ready to serve,
where is the order?
one time we said nothing and it did nothing but drip
drip
drip
drip your stale momentums into my coffee, black. bitter.
longing for an unescapable nightmare.
your light bounces like a thousand stars of distraction,
infinate? unknown.
what do you see in those bricks? it's not that constant, really.
it's not that solid, i swear.

"The cold has immobilized the world
Space is made of glass
glass made of air
The lightest sounds build
quick sculptures
Echoes multiply and disperse them
Maybe it will snow
The burning tree quivers
surrounded now by night
Talking to it I talk to you"

octavio, thank you for presenting my canvassed future.
stretched across the bars of it all, subtly sustaining trees.
i wish we could see and hear and feel and taste it all at once.
then, we will know time.
then, we will know the difference between you and me.
we will eat with our tongues and swear with spoons.
we will cry for keys forgotten.
because they are notes unwritten, potential in a past generation.
so we are now.
forgotten and lazy,
a little bit drunk and always stoned,
illogical and beautiful,
so we are now.

marijuana daydream

currently: eating fruitcake

i don't think i know how to write. i don't know if that's ok or not. i know how to type, that's for sure. but is there destination in the un-inked words within this computer screened universe? un-inked. we are made of links of ink. permanent and deceiving, we grace ourselves towards an ego once removed. diving on dope, we strive for a future ending tonight. there is never tomorrow, only now. there are never extroadinary tonalities, there are never never lands and lands and islands. ice lands. iceland. brrr.


dear Hampshire College

where is the weed?

soberly yours,
emma

haha

How do I know the world is like this?

By this.

So I have just joined the blogging community and I don't know if it's a good idea or not. Trial and error. People have been telling me to get one of these for a while, but I've been resisting. I had a xanga in middle school, and I mean, I was in middle school. Thus, it's content was worthy of poop. So I've kind of had this negative conotation towards writing my thoughts, feelings, ideas, current happenings, etc. on the internet. But I am one to give in, so here I am. Welcome to my mind. Please wipe your feet before entering.

"And I must borrow every changing shape
To find expression... dance, dance
Like a dancing bear,
Cry like a parrot, chatter like an ape.
Let us take the air, in a tobacco trance-"

In a tobacco trance. That would be the title of this blog if i was a smoker. Thank you Sir Eliot. Now, there's a difference between a smoker and a person who smokes. I semi consider myself the latter because I go to Hampshire College and it's a way of life here. But 98% of my close friends here are the former. They live it. Pack(s) a day. Sacrificing proper circulation for a puff a puff a puff. Good evening Massachusettes winter, may i replace your air with mine? It's unfiltered.

"I am moved by fancies that are curled
Around these images, and cling:
The notion of some infinitely gentle
Infinitely suffering thing.

Wipe your hand across your mouth, and laugh;
The worlds revolve like ancient women
Gathering fuel in vacant lots." -t.s.e

I am "impatient to assume the world."
I am certain that this one is still a dream.
I am certain everything is still asleep.
What do you do once the world has gone back to it's room?
What do you do when your typewriter becomes cliche?
It's possible I had a breakdown today,
It's possible I saw it all.
When I realized it's infinite, I used single spacing and took a nap.