space can wait
oh we're cruel
we've got the makings of generals
and we're still arguing about who's top gun
with lives like these
we could live on the sun
but knowing us, we'd like the moon better
and in the time it'd take us to change our minds
we'd've already lost a lifetime

chemical distraction
she's into chemistry and always has a book under her nose, like she can unlock the secrets of the universe between its pages. because sometimes she thinks its possible.

but other times, most of the time, she's wondering if there's life after equilibrium, or how love is like chemicals, and if all the elements in the world will bring her lover back home.

and when she looks at things it's all disjointed, atoms crashing at each other, and she's hoping that one day everything will get along just fine.

so when the winter comes with its chill, and its news, and its gray gray skies, she thinks she'll never love anything again.
and she can't help deciding that somehow its all her fault, she should've looked for him, and maybe if she did, this horrible thing might not have happened.

she puts all her books away.

now its summer and she's got powerlines in her bloodlines because even if it still hurts, she's not wondering whether love is like a sodium explosion.

her hair is brown and everywhere, and sometimes when she cries the only thing she wishes is for molecules to rearrange and make a person to hold her.

and when he comes to her door after months and days, she's thinking it's most likely a dream.
and when he takes her towards something like potassium bombs of light, she hopes its real, so much so that her brain rejects anything but the moment.

because deep down inside, she knew that life was just a hoax, and even if it did taste bitter, she gulped the cyanide down anyways.

none of you know what the fuck is going on, so please stop pretending that you do.
thank you.

if i could get out, i'd start a revolution
still not asleep.
which is not good, i don't think.

4am was always our favortie time
we used to talk like this
with twisted words and swirling emotions
the way some talk about houses, cars, jobs
[all that normality, conformity]
we spoke in languages of rebellion
no mention of the past, filled with boyish sighs
jellybean highs
we’re so immature, i think, when we talk about leaving
getting away from it all
when really we’re just separating from each other
late nights of planning, wishing
we’re nearing a breakdown
[nuclear bomb reaction, distraction]
so when you say, lets leave
i say, we need to wait
say, we need a guide during the night
[stars were always my favorite light]
and when you don’t reply i take it as a yes
because you could never disagree with me anyways

pas si simple
i'm so fucked up.
i mean, i am just so maliciously fucked up i hate to think about myself.

i'm going to die one day, and sometimes i wish it would hurry up. its not like i know what to do with life anyways.

and writing things down doesn't ease my frustration. it just sits there, festering in my brain, reminding me of everything i'm frustrated about. just adding onto whatever shit i was thinking at the time.
the written word is hard for me to use now.
its losing its luster.

i think i might need a psychiatrist. but i don't want to be dramatic.
it'll probably fuck everything up even worse.
i need aspirin.

i have been trying and trying to update, but work and life and, ultimately, computer malfunctions have made it impossible.

i promise i'll read up on everything i've missed, and try to comment on your latest entry with everything that's been happening in your lives. :)

its a celebration of the deceitful
ophelia, her eyes like ebony
she was full of whiskey
in a ragged dress with the color missing

ophelia, she glanced at amber liquid
and wondered how she could fix it
when life became, oh, so wicked

well she counted her way backwards from ten
and pretended not to be so frightened
but ophelia, she was terrified of what could happen

she seemed stretched so languidly
and thought the world was still darkening
and ophelia, she waited for the grand finale

the world's fading, she says
too many deaths and not enough savings
but she didnt care enough to walk towards neon lights

because ophelia, her eyes like ebony
she was full of whiskey
with a tattered dress that seemed to be missing

its a delicate degree
the human being fascinates me.
on the one hand, you have rapists, murderers, thieves, molesters, serial killers.
whats-his-face peterson, the unabomber. jack the ripper.

and what kills me is that you can see the corruption on someone’s face.
the seven deadly sins.
glutton. covetousness. lust. anger. envy. sloth. pride.
but then, in the other hand, you have masterpieces of art, magnificent symphonies, prodigies, theatre, pbs.
aristotle, da vinci, mozart.

i wonder, though, if locke or hobbes was right.
because we are such multi-faceted creatures.
maybe there is some sort of undetectable chemical or hormone that is present in some, and not in others. maybe that’s the cause of violence and insanity.

and although i’d like to believe locke was correct, and that we were all born happy and peaceful and wonderful, its hard; because we have such lush history.
the romans. the vikings. the countless wars.

and you know how everyone says that history repeats itself?
that’s bull.
because, [this is a message for you, mankind] lets say someone makes ONE huge mistake. fine, okay. the world can deal, it was an accident.
but then some time later someone else thinks they can pull off what the other couldn’t, because we’ve advanced technologically. this guy, lets call him bob, totally blows it.
so the world is all “for shame, bob. learn from the past.”

THEN, adding insult to injury, another guy, fred, says bob was retarded, and since its fifty years later, he should try.
can you see the pattern?

and as of the moment my mind is already losing its direction & focus because i have the attention span of a small child on speed.
so im going to try and stop myself from losing the rest of my money to barnesandnoble.com .

and that's not all
i hate that my brain is always set on "worst case scenario."
ie: driving on blue ridge parkway.

for the average human being, this should be a wonderful experience; fantastic views and scenery blowing by your car window.

and then there's me.
wondering what it would be like if the car veered sharply off the very, very steep mountain. what would i do to survive?
would the car get caught in tree branches, consequently causing a bough to snap some sort of fuel line that will cause a chain reaction, making the car blow up?

who knows. but i think of things like that all the time.

anyways, north carolina was pretty good. it was a welcome break from the constant heat that is the sunshine state.

which is kind of ironic, really, since it got around 9.5 inches of rain while i was gone. hm.

but you, you're the catalyst
its my birthday tomorrow.
happy birthday, me.

boys will be boys
i'm skipping second period, and chilling in the media department.
i love how badass you can feel when you walk by administration while skipping and they don't even ask you for passes.

i still am having an awful time getting to sleep at night.
and i just got over this wonderfully horrible habit of eating nothing but two bowls of cereal a day.
nothing for breakfast or lunch, come home and eat cereal, and then skip dinner.

next year i'm going to be in newspaper instead of computer graphics, and i'll be editor of the literary magazine our school puts out.
i feel so geekish that i'm so excited, but i can't help it.

and boys? pah. who needs them.

neon insomnia
midnight black descending
small illuminations brightening
brilliant reds rushing by
whites and yellows fast as light

traveling unknown cities
windows open to silent pities
bursts of wind mingled in gold
wild hair a testament too bold

sleepless nights a catalyst
for mangled thoughts in a twist
highway to nowhere coming soon
underneath a crescent moon

faster and faster, accumulating speed
open roads full of aching need
headlights blinding near catatonia
just another case of neon insomnia

of the time, and inbetween
have you ever looked into the mirror, and realized what you were looking at?
if you looked in the mirror everyday, and just one day, you just notice who you are. and how you've changed from one year to the next.
three hundred sixty five days of seeing yourself and in one of those, you're watching yourself change. watching yourself grow up.

i think its supposed to happen on birthdays. or at least, thats what should happen on birthdays.

tonight i looked at myself in the mirror, and i didnt just stare at the reflection. i saw myself. and even though i've seen myself almost every day, it was different. i looked older, i guess. its difficult to explain unless you've actually experienced it.

but maybe no one experiences it. maybe everyone does.
and maybe its just me, stressing about school, and my birthday, and how the next year of my life will unfold.

half of me is hoping that someone will notice. it feels like it just happened overnight sometime, and people will be just as taken aback as i am.
if they dont notice, which i dont think they will, it'll just be me. finally fitting into my own skin. and that half of me wants it to keep it to myself. a secret of sorts, but more personal.

anyways. i should be sleeping.

past, present, and future tense
what is life?
im sure you can read books upon books describing the meaning of it, whether it is love, art, adventure, or change.
maybe its one of those things. maybe its passion, or inspiration, or nature.

i dont know.
but put your life in perspective with the rest of the universe. on such a large timeline, with billions of people, and billions of years before you , its like you dont even exist.

but there is still all this pressure from the world to do great, to be great. that if you are not famous, you are not worth remembering.
what kind of life can we offer future generations if this is the way things are now?

it seems to me, that all those legends before us; galileo, aristotle, newton, and hell man, even elvis.
they are legends in themselves because they did what no other person in their generation did. they broke the mold in a certain area. something that has never been tried before.

hence what bothers me. we've tried everything. we've done peace, war, experimentation, medication, television, bombs, cancer, rocketships.
the future is either bleak and barren, hardly supporting life, or it is technologically advanced. it cannot be both.

its bad enough we get along so well
i love how only two people read this.

im pretty close to being nocturnal.
but when you sleep in until 3 in the afternoon, you feel like you missed half your life in that one day.
and though i am more productive in the wee hours of the morning, i find it particularly lonely, because no one is online.

i have a website. [www.velut-luna.org]

my addiction to psp is horrendous.

failure by design
you know this war on humanity thats going on?
i finally figured out what the fuck it is.

evolution.

its survival of the fittest.
good luck, rest of the planet.

who am i, somebody tell me that much
writers block is so ridiculous.
i know exactly what should happen next in finding new york, but.. BLAH.

i cant wait to finish off my b&w film from the nikon. i want to develop them like mad.

i should just bring it to school and take random pictures of people.

i've been having many odd dreams as of late. on consisted of my nine year old brother crashing a car, while i was in it as well as my sister, and when the police came he started laughing. and saying it was just like need for speed. or burnout III takedown.

i was panicking, and they were excited.

odd, yes? yes.

finding new york II
of course he wasnt from california. he was from new york. from brooklyn. he knew the taste of real pizza, and could accurately depict the big apple and its millions of inhabitants on a routine monday morning.

and it figured that after meeting this kid, brian, and talking for maybe 15 minutes, that my cellphone would ring with its what's my age again ringtone.

i sighed. hold on a minute, i said, and grabbed my nokia from my back pocket. brian just nodded.

hello? i asked the phone.
"alice, we're coming to pick you up, your brother made reservations for a new restaurant," replies the voice.
why do i have to go?
"because its a family thing," my mother says.
whatever. i'll be waiting, i reply.

i pushed the end button on my phone and shoved it back into my jeans. brian looked at me with his blue, blue, pale sky blue eyes.
"leaving?" he asked quietly.
yeah, i said. i guess we have some reservations at this new restaurant somewhere. happen to know about it?
"nah," he said. "but i have to leave for work soon, anyways."
oh. well, i guess i'll see you around?
"yeah," he said in that same quiet tone.

i saw my mother's green jeep wrangler start to pull up. i remember seeing it in the parking lot when i came out of the airport, and asking her what the hell she was thinking. first, she said not to use that language, and then said that it was the "thing" to have jeeps in california. i realized later that it was so not the thing to have. everyone had convertibles here, and i could understand that. despite the dumb beaches, california had really nice weather.

i didnt want to go to another restaurant. the one last night was awful, the waiters couldn't take a joke. my mother said in the car afterwards that asking if the opera singer was a dying cat wasnt funny, and that i shouldnt try to taunt the host. she was mistaken though, because the timing was perfect for it. it was hilarious; some of my best work.

i realized i had around two minutes.

do you have a computer? i asked brian.
"yeah," he said.
fantastic. do you have a pen?
brian wore a confused look on his face as he reached in his jean pockets and dug out a black pen.
give me your hand, i said urgently.
the look deepened as he stuck out his right hand.

i grabbed it and scribbled my screen name on it. if he didnt have aol, i was going to cry. he had to have aol.

he smiled at the word on his palm and said, as my mother honked the horn in the parking lot, "hope you manage to find your way out of the rabbit hole."
i half-heartedly rolled my eyes.
i've had it since i was twelve, i said.
he just smiled. my mother honked the horn again. "don't be late," he said.
yeah, yeah, its an important date, i got it, i said as i walked towards the parking lot.

finding new york
i was at that theatre where all the highschoolers went to hang out and look cool at night. it was annoyingly boring, listening to the gossip of a group of girls scattered around in short skirts and tanks with flip flops. i looked down at my own feet, stared at my right converse shoe covered with writing and little drawings from my real friends back home.

because i wasnt home. this theatre was foreign to me. i was out of place; i knew it, and they were obviously too dense to notice it. the girls around me, i mean. you could hit them with a brick and they probably wouldnt respond. there was nothing i could do about it though, mom had insisted i get a social life.

i had a social life, it just wasnt here. i wanted to be back in seattle, not here in california. i don't even like the beach. its wet and hot and you get sand in all the wrong place. what a hassle.

i glanced toward said beach, it was right by the theatre. it had wooden steps flooded with sand winding its way to the cement pathway that led to the parking lot.

and thats when i saw him. he was standing apart from the little groups, leaning over a rail that lined the walkway and faced the parking lot. he had a black t-shirt on, a band name i didnt recognize scribbled across the front. he had faded-looking jeans on, and converses, i noticed.

he had converses. not sandals or flip flops or wet shoes or rocket dogs or whatever. converses.

it was simple relief, that not all of the people here had never heard of the sex pistols or ridden the subway. i mean jeez. this is the first person i had seen who looked remotely like me. clothes-wise.

because appearance-wise, he had darkish brown hair, short, with little ringlets covering his ears. he turned his head slightly and i saw really really great cheekbones.

i usually dont notice something as dumb as that, mind you. but i did. and i couldnt resist walking up to him.

i tried to be casual, but the thought of actually having a conversation that did not include fashion made me excited, so i looked like i was extremely happy to see him.

he didnt notice me coming over toward him though, and i nonchalantly leaned against the rail next to him. i glanced over at him.

hey, i said.

he looked surprised when he turned his head toward me. like he couldnt imagine anyone striking up a conversation with him. he looked me straight in the eyes, and said, "hey."

and oh man, let me pause here. his eyes. they were the exact color of the sky. exact. except they seemed lost in thought, as if i disrupted his thinking. that didnt bother me though because man! his eyes!

i didnt respond right away, so he stood up carefully and turned so he could see me face to face. sort of. he was a bit taller than me.

i held out my hand.
"i'm alice," i said after a moment.
"brian," he replied, his hand meeting mine and shaking it.

he noticed my favorite shirt, and said, "sex pistols fan?"
totally, i said. you?
"yeah."




to be continued?