21 feet under
4 am blue
all over coffee
Amnesty International
Amnesty International USA
bay folk sketchbook
beautiful shadows
brian andreas
cat power
cynthia connolly
cynthia connolly -- banned in dc
dissociated voices (sound samples on the bottom)
donald miller
dover beach
dresden dolls
drinking sky and sweet black
God's Debris
green night on a dusty red moon
he scanned it, staggered
how now brown sock?
i found this magazine in santa cruz . . .
jacaranda (greysight)
jonathan hartsaw
jones soda
koyaanisqatsi
letters from home. (Rnk.)
listen to the rain (turn your speakers on)
mindwalk
mogwai
paul madonna
pedro the lion
pleiades
richard stine
Rivers and Tides
SAP
staring out the window at the rain (my old blog)
the deep end. seven feet.
the deep end. seven feet. part 2.
the near and the far
thirteen
throatshot
undefined
what happened to lani garver
white oleander
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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.
i want to know what happened to sara.
sara was thirteen -- we were all thirteen. sara had blond hair that hung like straw down her back, around her shoulders. she wore big, grungy clothes and had stickers of aliens. she laughed a lot, i remember her laugh. she moved away, and i never really knew her, i just knew that my best friend considered her "cool" so she was okay to hang out with. i would like to know sara.
and what happened to aja?
aja showed up at my old high school the year after i graduated. she wore grandma sweaters and had fuzzy green-black hair and fishnet tights and holes in everything. i visited the school and we sat in the bleachers during a rally, drawing cartoons, she and spike and i, and hers were twisted, pervertedly funny. she liked my boots, and when i sat in on one of her classes, someone asked if i was her mom. (we figured it was because we were the only two white kids in the class, since i was only three years older than her.)
what happened to cory?
he moved here from washington, d.c., having been kicked out of school there for drugs (he said). he had a following of little skinny girls, but he would come into the practice room in music class and sit with his head on his hands and tell me about his problems, about his life and his thoughts. one day he asked me, "want to see something funny?" and he removed a strip of duct tape from the front of his beanie, revealing the word "hottie" surrounded by orange and red flames. "my grandma gave it to me for Christmas," he admitted sheepishly. i wrote to him when i struggled with God.
then there's david whose words were like open doors, who showed me that God can be more than "three steps to salvation." and the other david, who wore army pants and came to youth group with his band of delinquent followers, who flirted with me and called me beautiful and was going to join the air force. there's tony from college who wore the cowboy hat, and the guy from the show last week who i didn't know, with the unshaven face and multiple silver earrings. he sat in the middle of the rows of chairs and stared silently, sadly, and then slipped away unnoticed by me before i could ask him why he looked so sad.
there's the girl from eighth grade to whom i was drawn. i was proud to have a "rocker" friend. i bonded with her over our self-proclaimed pyromania as we walked across empty basketball courts. and the girl from tenth grade who came from juvenile hall and had a buzz cut and flirted with all the guys and ran around the gym banging into walls before she came back over and sat and talked quite normally with us.
why are they inaccessible? i wonder if they realize that i value them. i wonder what they would have thought if they would have known how much.
moon phases |