vanilla raindrops

email: noreia@planet-save.com.

This is my blogchalk:
United States, California, sometimes Steiermark, Austria, something bored teenagers say when they speak useless words into brick walls of cotton candy, English, German, Noreia,creative writing, fiction, reading, college student, strange, cat power, mogwai, arap strap, dresden dolls, white oleander, the earth, my butt, and other big, round things, welcome to the dollhouse, fuckers.

body jewelry by bodyPUNKS!

body jewelry by bodyPUNKS!

body jewelry by BodyPUNKS!

 

it came almost as if in answer to my last post.  this unreal weekend, this crazy parade of beautiful people, of fire and smoke and yodeling and vodka, holding her hand and being led through pulsating bodies.  exploring the city like a tourist, skipping arm in arm.  crepes and sushi, stilts and machetes.  stretching and doing a hip hop dance on a hill under a sunset.  the ferrets.  lucy the dog dolled up in pink, ready to do ballet.  eros jumping into bushes.  the unbelievably frequent bouts of laughter.  a night shivering in a van full of mardi gras beads and mirrors, a night in a house on the edge of the woods.  pancakes and hummus.  wine and poi. 

i want to remember every moment, to take them all with me as i go out in my two-sizes-too-big boots and stomp around a cold campus, lost in the violent piano/singing of dresden dolls.  i want to hold on to the way i felt normal, calm, at home.  for once not out of place, not black and white in a world of orange, for once not listening to my inner monologue and wishing someone else could hear.  i want the warmth of wine too early in the morning, of bonfires and people pressing in on all sides.  that playful look she had as she pulled me along, eyes gleaming, a suppressed grin.  the talk of hypnosis and God and death and what it means to be alive, what it should mean, of so many foreign places, of sword swallowers and clowns. 

i want to laugh in astonishment at the randomly beautiful sequence of it all.

but i'm home again.  and i must go to school, and go to work.  and try not to let the cold sink in, try not to get lost in the background murmur of voices, in the reading of theories and stacking of CDs.  i am me, and i'm pretty fucking happy about that.  and for three days, i was me with someone who made me feel most like me, most alive and laughing, on fire.

maybe i'll paint my face for school tomorrow.  maybe i'll ask richard if he wants to hang out sometime.  maybe i'll sing, scream at the top of my lungs, burst into flames, dance violently.  maybe i'll fly.

Posted by: noreia at 23:50 | link | comments |

i don't remember which of my personal friends and acquaintances read this blog, for whom i always had to semi-censor it, but oh well now, what the hell now.  i would just like to say something in this moment of harsh brightness before my tired eyes, jaw aching and head tight from lack of sleep.

i think i'm gay.

i mean, i know i like girls.  i don't know if i like guys anymore.  at all.  for a while now. 

if you do know me, don't make assumptions -- i'm not "with" anyone.  don't start any rumors.  and if you want to call and tell me that i'm not gay, or that God is not okay with me being gay, you should probably just hold off on that, because i've gone over it a million times in my head, believe me. 

another thing you may not know.  i like the sound of the word "fuck."  it's a fucking great word.   so . . . round.  i like words with f's and v's and o's and u's.  and fuck is just the only fitting word sometimes, you know?  fuck.

so i'm working 5 days a week now, going to school 2 days, doing homework 7 days.  sleeping probably half that much.  it's fun.  seriously.  i love school.  my best friend being a middle aged gay man, my hobbies being accosting random strangers and feeding/conversing with ducks.  and standing on rocks, and singing.  and trying to figure out how the hell you're supposed to flirt with girls.

random strangers being (today) an older girl, with short, orange, punk-rock bangs and lots of makeup, a bright purple velvety dress.  accosting being me walking up to her after a few minutes of distant observing, and saying, "hi, can i sit and talk with you?  i don't know anyone here and i'm bored."  (inner monologue: more accurately, i'm lonely.)  she telling me about a drama teacher she had once, an eighty-year-old blind man whom she'd known since she was 5.  "hello professor," she'd say.  "who's tha--?!?" he'd say.  "it's me, aidy," she'd say.  "oh, abby!" he'd say.  she also told me how she thought the parents who left their kids with him in the theater for class were crazy, that he'd be talking to a five-year-old like, "what the hell's wrong, man?  i thought we had an understandin'" 

also today, the girl from my drama class who wears pink and black.  tuesday it was a short black skirt and top and pink ballet slippers.  today it was a pink mens' dress shirt under a black jacket and black combat boots almost like mine, but lacking the yellow stitching.  her almost-uncontrollable laugh, like she can't catch her breath, which made people stare and made me smile and decide even more that i wanted to talk with her.  her telling me my hair looks like a japanese comic book character's, praising me for having cut it myself.

i said hello to the lady picking out cans from the garbage to add to her bulging recycling bags.  i smiled and gave her my root beer can. 

and i'm fucking lonely, homie.  i walk around and look at trees and laugh to myself at a swarm of ducks after i drop a million cracker crumbs.  "i'm a creep, i'm a weirdo.  what the hell am i doing here?  i don't belong here."  i do strange things and dress in strange clothing to separate myself, because they're all so normal, because i don't want to be seen as a background cardboard cutout scenery walking statue.  people look, and laugh, and smile, but they don't love, they don't ask.  i want to find the few other weird people, the people who stand out for their awkward stances, their green hair.  i want to tell them, i'm lonely, talk to me, take me somewhere nice.  and i don't have normal social inhibitions.  i do approach them, i do make conversation.  i just don't know how to make it go anywhere.  the fact that i approach them probably makes me seem confident and happy, makes it seem like i don't desperately need at least one good friend there.

and at work.  i love work, really.  for a job, i mean.  it's, well, fuck, you know.  or whatever.  and i'm good at it, and i like being good at it, i like having the manager tell me my section of CDs looks "fucking awesome."  but it's there, too -- the loneliness.  a girl came in a few days ago; she had purple hair, long, pinned haphazardly back.  dressed all in black.  had this huge smile, this musical laugh, was looking for modest mouse.  love me, i thought.  do you like girls? i thought.  do you like me? i thought.

and i'm taking a gay literature class in school.  there's a girl in there i can't stop staring at.  i've said about two words to her.

and i'm taking sociology.  ironic, no?  studying social interactions.  and i'm so good at starting those random conversations with strangers.  "i missed the bowl with my spoon" -- sam.  that's life, i think.  that's it exactly.

Posted by: noreia at 00:28 | link | comments (4) |