delirium

With all the lighter fluid, the pule lit up fast, the flash instantly warming my face. I stood there and didn't try to stop her because I loved her too much then. I knew it wasn't good to burn all of Dad's things, but how can you not love someone who lets you see them in all that pain? For the first time, I saw her clearly, as if I were inside a dream of hers watching all her thoughts. She wasn't putting on an act. She wasn't being a nurse. She wasn't being a mother or a wfe or a good Christian. She was just dropping to her knees, inches from teh fire, and sliding her thin arms into the flames. If I screamed I didn't hear it, but I did pull her back, grabbing a fistful of her bathrobe, fulling understanding that I was now playing a part in that dream.

When the firetrucks and the ambulance came, I left her and ran into the house. I locked all the doors, turned off all the lights because we had revealed too much of ourselves. Crouching under a window that faced the yard, I heard the neighbours saying how they'd never seen such a thing. A man asked my mom how she felt.

All she said was, "I'm starving."

~Shelter, Page 5-6

"Skanky freak," she said, and plunked down next to me. She was tall and black and had on a denim mini-skirt that barely reached the tops of her long grasshopper legs. Right away I knew she wasn't a girl, not because of the way she looked but because she acted too much like one, too much drama in her hands and hips.

~Club Orchid, page 36

"Your cigarette smells like chocolate," was what finally came out of my mouth. I hadn't eaten that day and every smell was candy.

~Club Orchid, Page 37

When I got up to throw everything away I noticed on the carpet a greasy black-and-white photo that looked to have ben torn from a yearbook. It was of a boy with a perfect glob Afro, wearing a sweater and tie. An American flag waved in the background, and the name was scratched out in ink. The more I stared at him, the more I saw the likeness. The long cheekbones gave it away. He was maybe in the sixth grade or seventh, his eyes already bored with life. He didn't smile. He looked straight into the camera and maybe years beyond it.

~Club Orchid, Page 40

Outside I stumbled past the ambulance, the fire trucks, the emergency people hovering around the other who was busy wiping down her child. The asphalt was a lace of sparkling diamonds -- beautiful, jagged doily for the crushed picnic basket, the soggy bib, the map stuck to the pavement with sticky blood. I searched for the janitor. I wanted to see where he would go. I even looked for him up in the sky, blinding myself until everything vanished.

~On the Bus, Page 95

currently reading Miles from Nowhere by Nami Mun.

stark and pretty.

and i'm pretty damn cold sitting next to this window.

Also, note the cup is designed such that empty mylar pretzel pellet bags stuffed in them to facilitate trash collection will not remain there, but will repeatedly and mesmerizingly creep back out and onto the tray table.

http://jetlagged.blogs.nytimes.com/

This article in particular gave me one of those secretive niggly feelings deep down inside.

http://jetlagged.blogs.nytimes.com/2007/12/27/the-uninvited-guest/

And if the point of travel, deep down, is to learn to see the world differently, then jet lag can have the same potential effect as the temples of Angkor, the ruins of Machu Picchu and the pyramids of Egypt put together.

...

The rules for handling jet lag are not so different from the ones on the back of your medication: do not operate heavy machinery while under its influence and do not make important decisions (unless, being a C.E.O. or head of state, you have to). Expect dizziness, headaches and tiredness; do not write checks, compute taxes or make any proposals of marriage in this state. Exposure to direct sunlight can be highly beneficial.

I wish I wrote this well.

But I'm half wondering how I'm gonna make it till 10PM tonight after waking up at 530AM. Nap? Like, right now?

not sure if the excerpt from the next book in the trilogy makes me want to read it. ok it does. damn it :( I guess I'll be reading it en route to china!

as for book one, i may have preferred an ending where lisbeth kept the present on her shelf or something, just to remind herself why she had gotten it.

not quite sure if this is going to be a trend for me, but i've read the first book of the golden compass and eragon trilogy and never ever felt like getting around to reading the rest. hmmm. pretty sure i'm not going to finish eragon, though, because the first book was bulky enough to stand on its own. but i think i'll be finishing the golden compass just because i need to see justice served.



also, ugh, keeping this piece i'm working on congruent is such a bitch. i think i was overambitious again :| but then again, i know i set my expectations up high so that whatever i end up with will not be a crappy piece of trash. even though there's that disappointment factor, w/e.

just about more than halfway through the book and absolutely terrified of what's coming next.

note to self: stop marathoning house when there are other things to do even if chase is really really good looking.

I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.
--maya angelou

...suddenly really liking 80s music. simple but great lyrics.

Nope, still have not acquired a tumblr.

Saying that all things have their origins (I really should finish reading the psychoanalysis book, but I think I may have misplaced it after coming back from LA) would be like saying that everything that happens needs to have a reason. Most things do have a reason, but you necessarily have to know the reason, and the reason for it is that everything has it's time. This may not necessarily make sense, but I wonder if there's a point in idealism where it blurs into cynicism? Or rather, is cynicism the flipside of idealism, and realism is a subset of cynicism and idealism. You can't have one without the other.

I think the starbucks barista on south university who took my order was high on something. I don't think I'm a fun person to tease or flirt with, mostly because I give logical answers and deadpan faces in response. Probably the defensive streak showing, but just what do you want me to do? When you get in the way of me and coffee I don't give a fuck.

The other night the weather was damp and comfortably chilly with a jacket on, and I was walking to meet Di at Espresso Royale when I thought to myself: I crave a cigarette.

Rather, I craved the idea of a cigarette and the emotions associated with smoking - tinged with sweet vodka and the warm presence of friendship. I don't crave a cigarette because I'm stressed, angry or sad and need a distraction, nor do I crave the biochemical pleasure that nicotine provides. The latter may or may not be a lie because brain chemistry is awesome, but mostly I'm entertained by the situations in which I find myself wanting. Most of them involve alcohol and it's the nature of the vice to lower your inhibitions. Almost all of them involve nostalgia and the quiet cool of the night.

I'll admit to wanting a cigarette, or rather, several cigarettes while I was alone in LA, just because I was nervous, anxious, angry with the place I was in and generally in a 'bitch, please' state of mind. I wanted so badly to have something to with my with my hands, my mouth, anything just to calm the fuck down because I was ready to run my mouth off over any little thing. I probably ended up getting some coffee and planned a two hour bus trip into the suburbs of LA to meet kon, but I am not quite sure. I've never wanted in the same way since then, and now that I've put my angry music on my iPhone I think I deal better.

I forgot what else I wanted to say, but that's okay.

Sometimes I am very envious of he way this person writes.

http://www.iwrotethisforyou.me/2008/09/day-you-read-this.html

Today is one of those days when my body is strange. I don't quite understand why the process of cleansing and renewal causes such exhaustion that no amount of caffeine can fix. That's a lie, I do get it. I kind of just want to sleep the day away in a daze, and the weather is gorgeous despite it feeling damp and wet, gray and depressing. It feels like rain. It feels like inspiration.

http://www.cnn.com/2010/HEALTH/06/18/fda.sex.pill.ella/index.html

How is the reason given for this pill to be an abortion drug, and therefore banned, because men may give it to their girl without her knowledge after having unprotected sex, or an accident with the condom? I can see it happening, but why would you sell the damn drug to a guy in the first place, the choice belongs to the woman because it's her body you're fucking with the hormones. If she doesn't want to listen to the guy and keep the baby she can deal and they probably should split up. If the guy is willing to resort to criminal methods to cause an abortion against her will an anyone really stop him? I can see why they are worried but this is so ridiculous it blows my mind. Really now. They need better arguments.

Furthermore, you can't find out if you conceived within the next five days unless you ovulate or something.

Also the reason why women want to take this pill are due to 1. Rape 2. Accidents with the condom. The first one was not of her choice, why would you deprive her of her right to fix it. Is it god's will for her to bear a criminals baby? As for the second, that's a lost cause. Before you ban abortion drugs, try banning condoms and we'd have so much more life in the world. Good luck!


All this boils down to is pro-choice.