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Aug. 20th, 2011


missed connection


Ward's, Thursday right before closing. - m4w (Ward's)
Date: 2011-08-05, 12:46AM EDT
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You are gorgeous, with a friendly, playful spirit. I didn't approach you because you are so obviously hot, and I resist cliches. Your smile is even more alluring than your body. . I think we'd fit well together.

I'm tall, lightly bearded. You came in for just a few things but had to go back and grab a basket because you decided you wanted more.

Because of you., I've taken a vow never to miss another connection with someone I'm so strongly drawn to..

My first missed connection! I kinda remember the guy, I think. We passed each other a couple times while I was shopping. But it definitely could've been someone else.

I am unbelievably flattered. I feel so fucking beautiful.

Aug. 7th, 2011

palm to face

i don't have to explain myself

Business attire. Suits. Pressed fabric, straight lines, blues and browns. A blue jacket, matching skirt (pleated), and a crisp button-down all put together looks like hotel conference rooms, with that slippery patterned carpet, and me being impressed with how well I could run on it in those black pumps. It smells like both vacuuming and disuse. And folding chairs, sometimes. The conference rooms in the Biltmore in downtown LA is where I met him. The hotel lobby at the Hilton in Anaheim two years later is where I saw him for the last time. He sent me a text as the shuttle to LAX pulled away: somebody misses you. Model UN changed my life forever.

God, sometimes I can hear his voice so clearly. Our friendship was best over the phone. It evolved to be best over the phone. I wonder what he'd hear me saying if it were him remembering my voice, gone for over three years now. Probably my laugh. I remember his. He had so many. I especially remember how I could tell he wasn't paying any attention whatsoever to a story I was telling. He'd kinda do a quiet, robotic laugh. His real laugh was loud, sure and dramatic. I liked making him laugh. It was a surprised laugh, and made me feel really special, as if I alone could make the world surprise and amuse him.

Jul. 22nd, 2011

alice crying

(no subject)

I want so badly to go back but I'm doing so very little to make it so.

automated menus. fuck 'em.Collapse )

Jun. 29th, 2011

mirror scissors

(no subject)

You need to want it like a prisoner wants her freedom.

derbs, Before the Beginning

What is going on in the world? All I see are lowered expectations, across the board! Answering Kiss 105's top 5 countdown for Most Requested Songs of the day used to garner at least a gift certificate to a spa or Macaroni Grill -- today the prize was 3 extra value meals from McDonald's! They're Extra Value Meals! The name screams cheap! And here, on my lj ads, right now I'm being offered a whole darn year's supply of premium coffee. I taste motel in the morning just thinking about it. Pff. That's all I have to say about that tonight, I'll tell ya that.

Gaps, gaps, gaps. I suppose the important thing is writing when one feels compelled to write instead of forcing out some boring blahblahs that even I'll have a hard time rereading later.

I went to the derby recruitment night tonight!
...Not really much to say about that other than:
+Wow! It's expensive to buy gear!
+Phew! Good thing I can go for a month before really committing.
+Making new friends is hard. I felt just like I did as the awkward lumpy loser in the locker room at ehs, getting ready for volleyball when everyone else was prettier than me. Except now, I was naked and everyone else there had more vavoom and integrity than me. In my mind. Battle of the faces, Aja! Damn, I'm all ego-muscle and confidence one minute and the next I'm all miniature depressasaurus wreck.

That being said, I wanna join! I'm for sure gonna go to practices every Tuesday and Thursday evening. Finagling Sundays and the occasional Monday off at the Jones might take some swingin.

I'm 5x16 Buffy right now. The rest of the show feels like a final stretch. I need to finish the series! I want to reread the draco trilogy :( I'd like to print it out, but it's only available .pdf and I really wanted to change the font size. :( first werld probz.

Movin' back in to the mothership. Michael and I want to get a place together but we're too poor to be able to pursue our dreams and pay rent for a place for just us at the same time. We're so lucky to have this option. I feel lucky just about all the time now.

Feb. 11th, 2011

herbal drugs

(no subject)

on wednesday

shouldn't have used caffeine like super running juice.

Feb. 9th, 2011

nature color

coppertone season

He likes it! I had to pretend that he would hate it, anyway, just to muck up the courage to do the damn thing. I like it, too! But I'm not done. I'm going to the beauty supply store for a bottle of 40 and those bleach packets. If you're sick of pigment and want to take out your revenge, I can be party to your actions. It's all pretty and copper-y near the roots, in some place (snnk snnk), and then it does a nice fade-to-natural to the tips. I can't believe my hair is two feet long. The plan is to bleach the tips. Bleach the Fuck out of those tips. Those tips will have no fucks left to give when I'm done with this bleach-- that's how bleached.

I don't care if I end up looking like a jungle animal from the trailer park zoo, I'm bleachin this shit.

I got running shorts, a little athletic hoodie and a $4 t-shirt to run in (that I rather like). Socks. I have sneakers. Let's go. C'mon c'mon c'mon.

Jan. 11th, 2011


I Can't. I Have to Wash My Hair.

I'm turnin' food into shit like I'm getting paid overtime to do it.

Jun. 16th, 2010

nature color

San Jose

Two weeks already flown on by in San Jose, land of perfect weather, bumps and more bumps, expensive butter and loooong long walks. Mmpf, I need to get a job.

My daily routine pretty much goes like this:
+get woken up by mike kisses and smiles
+be brought coffee
+get up, stretch, more kisses
+see mike off to work
+do dishes and pick up the house, sweep and clean the kitchen whether or not I had anything to do with the mess because they seem to think that even though I make a very, very small impact on their living situation, I'm an indentured servant as long as I don't have a job and OWE it to them to do all their fucking dishes while they eat my expensive yogurt and butter.
+spend moments being ashamed of being selfish and forgetting that indefinite and mildly unexpected house guests are an inconvenience simply in their existence and the lack of privacy.
+go jogging to the rose garden, stretch, shower do laundry if needed and figure out what I'm going to do with the rest of my day.
+realize I don't have a job, again, and go apply for jobs.
+go get beers with mike (kisses)
... and lately we've been trying to sync up albums with movies (ala Dark Side of Oz and The Wall in Wonderland), which wastes a lot of time, but we have fun.

I finally finished The Vegetarian Myth and I say it's a must-read for anyone who has ever felt passionate about the world they live in and is terrified for it and too nervous to really dive right in. Lierre Keith is soulful and appropriately enraged by the situation we've put ourselves in and by the main modes of liberal and radical movements being inherently flawed. She analyzes these contradictions and starts right at the root of each of the vegetarian arguments -- ethical, political, and nutritional -- and works her way to your plate. It's straight-up the best non-fiction I've ever read. Engaging, personal, relevant. She's a writer, small farmer and radical political feminist. So I suppose you can say I admire her. I want to read her other books! Hell, I want to camp out at her next book-signing or appearance and kiss her feet. Then I want to ask her how I can change my friends' minds. My resistant vegan friends who are hurting themselves. :( I guess they gotta do it the way I did it. On my own.

I might be getting a job at Anthropologie which appeals to my vanity and offends my anti-capitalist sensibilities. :( I need money and I like clothes and feeling pretty -- why does it all have to be so conveniently distanced with pretty colors, lights and a/c, shopping centers and modern comforts? But part of me does see the pollution, pain and suffering, fossil fuels and egregious labor violations in every stitch and kitchy pattern, bangle and covered button. I think I may have misplaced something. What was it again? Oh, right, my DIY. Fuck.

May. 25th, 2010

nature color


The lawn was bright, bright green and I laying on one of those dirty white poolside chairs in my sister's backyard the morning after her party at what was probably around noon. You know the kind of chair -- with the plastic bands that give when you lay on them and the length to ensure a full, relaxing stretch-out in the sun. The sky was a flat, bright and electric blue with 2d fractals and 3d extension, but I couldn't really see. This was around the time that I noticed that for the past three hours it wasn't just a body high and I was actually suppressing nausea. After hiding in the bathroom and trying to text "Is there any way to stop tripping? Probably not. ?" to four people I could trust and spitting up water in the sink and bathtub, I ended up there, in the sun, on the damp ground, marooned on my deck chair in pulsing waves of chartreuse lawn. So I crouched on the chair, on my knees, sinking into the supporting bands of mildewed plastic, coughing and gagging up oceans of ... how long had it been since I'd eaten? 15, 17 hours? My eye make-up was smeared, there were flies everywhere, I stunk and I was sweating and dirt was caught on my hairy, white legs and I had a vague idea of how appalling I appeared to any absent third party. But I felt pretty and alive and like my body was doing what it felt was right. And my hair was soft and my legs were sooo loooonggg. The colors! I don't remember what I ate, but there was magenta and there was turquoise. There was what appeared to be a piece of onion. There were waterfalls of the massive amount of alcohol, water and juice I drank.

I looked like a magazine model in the mirror. Slender, cute, smooth and soft and symmetrical. "Pretty" isn't something you are. Not when it counts. Pretty, to me, is an emotion.

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