it doesn't have to be pleasant, it just has to be new.

limbless with tralala eyes
cold like needles to the marrow
blah blah.

people in pain are attractive
45 seconds between heartbeats

there is a way to fall in love
(such as keeping his used toothpaste tubes forever)
loved, loving.
you're allowed to take it back (I don't deserve it)
be mine
i'd give you all day
if you'd smile at yourself in the mirror

ah. as long as we're making things everything'll be fine.
tire yourself out every day. burst out laughing.

can one person have More potential than another?
they can't help looking down when you look them in the eye

insects bleed copious amounts of bright red blood
you're free to react as extremely as you wish
a bed with curtains
bad thoughts. bad words.
go ahead, guess what my favourite word is. it wouldn't be hard, even spelled correctly.

sigh. sigh. i'm so uncertain. need to discertain.
I use the enter key in place of punctuation. that's all.

The stairwell of this apartment building opens directly onto the sidewalk. There is no door to the building, just a forever-gaping doorway. Anyone, if they liked, could go up the stairs and slip poison-laced envelopes under my door. They never do, though; I check every day. I think that if there were any interesting people in this city, they would pick my name at random out of the phone book, thinking, "that sounds like the name of a person whose life needs a poison-laced envelope under the door." I'd wake up to my usual 7am alarm, heartbeat, and on my way to the bathroom, see it lying there. A blank, pale grey envelope. I'd pick it up, heedless of the poisoned lace, and tear off the end. "I have your phone number," the note inside would read. "I could easily utterly disrupt your life. You should really be worried." Signed, an interesting person.

( Read more )

things I love: in no particular order
ladybuggs
oilslick nailpolish
public transportation
underwater
sidewalks
circus&carousel ponies
other peoples' dreams
mismatched shoelaces
birds on cafe tables
watches with tiny faces
pineapple juice
the names of colours
making lists

thinking "how can something beautiful you see every day of your life remain as beautiful after a lifetime as the first time you saw it?" makes me feel sad. I shouldn't let such things make me sad. but then, people shouldn't let anything make them sad.

I collect cornered animals
feel like everything I say is an insult. well I move my mouth and words come out.
oh yeah, i'll be keeping this child in my womb forever.

alright!
I live in a city that if not for 100billion tourists avalanching through the airport every five minutes would not exist. as a consequence, every second store I pass in the street offers an abundance of glaringly corny postcards featuring the usual banal tourist attractions X 42958623586. rainforests/mountains/perfect white sandy beaches/great barrier reefs (reeves?)/naked sand-covered butts/cute fluffy little creatures that everyone not Australian thinks quite quirky and impossible and that maybe they don't exist at all but are a national joke like dropbears or those rabbits with antlers.

so anyway. stick your address in the darling little boxxx below and i'll send you a hideously tacky postcard, 'cause I like to do funny things like that with people I barely know and people I intensely know and people I don't know and people I know. you don't have to put your name if you don't want, and i'll make one up for you.

name:
address:

I just sent postcards.
"hurrah!" I hear you holler.