|
|
|
April 8th, 2007
March 15th, 2007
December 27th, 2006
04:01 am - here's your fuckin' pregnancy journal.
My bladder's leakin' like a water balloon with a hole in it, I keep passing out, I can't breathe, and good god the pain in my hips is making me pretty much want to stab stab stab everyone I meet in the head with a big rusty knife the size of a dachsund until all I see is a glorious sea of red.
By the way, it's twins, so if you're really good I'll let you name one of the Eureka, if I get to name the other one Fuck You, just so I can shout "HEY, FUCK YOU!" all the time at press conferences and not get in trouble for it.
|
December 24th, 2006
01:42 am
|
July 8th, 2006
11:38 pm
Everything's so easy for Pauline
Everything's so easy for Pauline
Ancient strings set feet a light to speed to her such mild grace
No monument of tacky gold
They smoothed her hair with cinnamon waves
And they placed an ingot in her breast to burn cool and collected
Fate holds her firm in its cradle and then rolls her for a tender pause to savor
Everything's so easy for Pauline
Girl with the parking lot eyes
Margaret is the fragments of a name
Her bravery is mistaken for the thrashing in the lake
Of the make-believe monster whose picture was faked
Margaret is the fragments of a name
Her love pours like a fountain
Her love steams like rage
Her jaw aches from wanting and she's sick from chlorine
But she'll never be as clean
As the cool side of satin, Pauline
Two girls ride the blue line
Two girls walk down the same street
One left her sweater sittin' on the train
And the other lost three fingers at the cannery
Everything's so easy for Pauline
- Neko Case
|
February 25th, 2006
11:41 pm
I should totally pretend to be pregnant again and hit my brother up for monies.
|
December 11th, 2005
07:12 pm - guess we are all equally damaged
The more she thinks about him, the more the other-her pushes for control. Aurora has always been stronger than Jeanne-Marie, by her very existance; she was a construct created to deal with what Jeanne-Marie couldn't. It didn't take long for Jeanne-Marie to lose control to the more aggressive, collected Aurora, and for six long years Jeanne-Marie has been stuck in the back of her mind, her existance obliviated by her counterpart. But the memories of what she was before, not just the pain but also the love and acceptance and knowledge that there was another part of her in another body--and Jeanne-Marie has always had to share parts of herself--that Aurora threw away--Jeanne-Marie wants it back.
The line that separates the two young women is very tenuous, because they're both simply aspects of the same person--they are not separate people in their own right, although they certainly believe themselves to be (and until recently they were not aware that the other even existed).
And the more Jeanne-Marie pushes for control, the more her memories and thoughts and feelings begin to surface... and the more fractured she feels. She's not even in control of her own body and she hates it.
These are things she doesn't want to remember.
|
December 5th, 2005
10:23 pm
Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leafs a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.
|
November 6th, 2005
06:37 pm - did you think maybe i was doing quite well without you
Thank God you're still angry at me
I've got a better chance of seeing you dead
|
October 2nd, 2005
05:05 pm - daddy
You do not do, you do not do
Any more, black shoe
In which I have lived like a foot
For thirty years, poor and white,
Barely daring to breathe or Achoo.
Daddy, I have had to kill you.
You died before I had time--
Marble-heavy, a bag full of God,
Ghastly statue with one gray toe
Big as a Frisco seal
And a head in the freakish Atlantic
Where it pours bean green over blue
In the waters off beautiful Nauset.
I used to pray to recover you.
Ach, du.
In the German tongue, in the Polish town
Scraped flat by the roller
Of wars, wars, wars.
But the name of the town is common.
My Polack friend
Says there are a dozen or two.
So I never could tell where you
Put your foot, your root,
I never could talk to you.
The tongue stuck in my jaw.
It stuck in a barb wire snare.
Ich, ich, ich, ich,
I could hardly speak.
I thought every German was you.
And the language obscene
An engine, an engine
Chuffing me off like a Jew.
A Jew to Dachau, Auschwitz, Belsen.
I began to talk like a Jew.
I think I may well be a Jew.
The snows of the Tyrol, the clear beer of Vienna
Are not very pure or true.
With my gipsy ancestress and my weird luck
And my Taroc pack and my Taroc pack
I may be a bit of a Jew.
|
August 9th, 2005
April 29th, 2005
10:21 pm - i don't know what to do with you
Stop ignoring me.
We're going to talk.
|
|
|