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!

 

a haze.

driving home from work and everything's grey, everything's touched by golden sunlight, feeling in a magic world again. 

"it's clipped on by something that can't spin."  my dad is talking about spark plugs and i'm trying to describe a perfect moment, the touch of air that perfect temperature where it just glides over you like water, and i'm trying to think and breathe and every time i come here he gives me rules for life. 

"now, sometimes when two friends get a little too close . . ."  (hi, fig.)

this is unreal, but it makes me happy.  she makes me happy.

Posted by: noreia at 22:32 | link | comments (1) |

can we please just stop pretending everything is okay here?  stop drowning in wasted-television-hours, stop the routine, stop the shaky smiles hiding tears, fears, everything?  i can run away to my own world, the world of purple and green walls, mind-numbing smoke and pulsating music, and quiet, quiet, quiet inside . . . but like a boomerang i am drawn back, i will never be separate.  i cannot just run off and come back later when it's all sorted itself out.  i have realized that i must be a part of it, must be here and be sorted out, sifted through, tossed and turned and churned like waves, with it all.  but i long for the quiet, the whisper of wind against branches and dead leaves, the fires twirling under watercolor night skies full of pinprick stars.  i long for austria, for that ancient land of castles and accordions, swaying beer glasses, rough mountain dialects.  i long to belong to something like that, and i do, but i am never home.

i carry home around inside of myself: austria, the nature-park with its sprites and fairies, the melancholy cello.  my house near the zoo, which i never see except after 12 am, and its beautiful inhabitants, with whom i feel both so at home and so disconnected. 

i long to sit down with them and say, don't you understand, don't you understand.  i long to sit still, just to sit for hours.  to stare at the ocean.  to sing with the ocean which once almost carried me away with it, which almost stole this all from me before i knew any of it. 

death steals away.

i find a strange comfort in bones.  smooth, something to hold onto.  hypnotizing, a connection with the disconnected, reaching the unreachable.  in touch with myself, the self i do not know. 

let me live, breathe, bleed, push away.  throw my arms in the air and scream.  sing to the moon, tear away, writhe and cry and rage against.  let me fly.

Posted by: noreia at 23:07 | link | comments |

i guess i should post now.  april, and my last . . . wow, six minutes of being 20.  five.  four.  april, and it's tired eyes and smoky haze, watching the clouds all shift at once outside my giant window, lying in bed in the moonlight.  two minutes.  lack of connections, loneliness.  power/vulnerability.  longing, longing . . . drowning in schedules, time mapped out as if they owned it, owned me.  wanting to sit, just sit for a long while and breathe in and look out again. 

one minute.

and i wish i could feel the beauty again.  i wish i could feel it in my chest, the bittersweetness, unbearable and full of life.  quietness.  fire in the night.

wow, two minutes ago, how did that happen?

well, happy 21 to me.

Posted by: noreia at 00:01 | link | comments |