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5 Feb

the dishwasher’s daydream



The sink-washed dishes clap thunderously as you dry them

against one another, as if attempting to ignite a fire between

two friendly sticks. The result: a broken dish

or another proclamation that “This cup…plate…bowl is cracking.”


The washed skin on my hand is growing apart, like the leather on

a cow’s back, and it goes down the drain, and gets cozy with the debris

along with the blood that came from cleaning knives too quickly.


You scurry around the kitchen, telling me about your day

as you shove the dishes into their proper places. The plates go

above the larger plates, and ceramic cups go into a different cupboard

next to the other things that aren’t identical in size and shape.


And if I were a bowl, I would be put in my own cupboard…

or I would be with the forks, beside the spoons, next to the drain,

so that I could be close to all of the things that left me. Then again,

I don’t like drawers. It’s difficult to be open-minded in closed spaces.

5 Feb

The Neighbors, When the Train Arrives

The water weights away from the faucet, moistening the sink;

and I rise, for perhaps the fourth time, to retrieve a drink

of water.

My head doesn’t know the time that the clock keeps, and my bed

is cold in the distance. My couch

knows my presence. My indentation

is like a well taught lesson

to the gingham fabric and its internal connection

of metallic spring, stuffing… or whatever else might be between

the walls of the resale couch that we bought for twenty dollars.


The ceiling speaks with the neighbor’s squeaks

because they are not asleep either.

They talk loud enough to think that no one is listening, they

have sex as much because they believe that everyone else is sleeping.

Their exhausted box spring gives a grieving roar.

On the track, the last Metro Link train rolls by, announcing its arrival

at the Forest Park stop. It’s nearly one o’clock.

Then, the lovemaking slows down…stops, and then *slump*.

It feels too early to miss sleep, but insomnia has to start sometime.


The furnace is contagious in its wheezes and sneezes.

The clock gives a mouse-length cough every time the hand

moves a distance on the analog time keeper, on the wall,

which clicks louder than Buzz Aldrin’s heels on the areola-like moon.


no attention span: brevity

12 Jun

idea taken from the fabulous, the six word story is something that I have grown terribly fond of. It’s short, concise and absolutely to the point. I admire these stories not only because it doesn’t take terribly long to write them but because they are devilishly contrived with secret messages, brilliant agenda and amazing purpose. –some of the ones that will be shown here are published on webook.

broken home.

dispair dances, when lights are out.


we move like cold fronts, nowhere.


a quiet storm. legs and redhead.

crowded room.

the varient noises that strangers make.

coffee stains.

two a.m. papers in a rush.


hearts beat together beneath our breasts.


shadows left in corners like bottles.

vivid (vinyl) pockets.

swallowed cherry pitts; paper machete hearts.

shakespearean proverb.

no pain like that of love.

rehash: french fries and roller skates.

12 Jun


so natalie is getting back into skating. which is understandable, it was an integral part of our childhood and we used to be fantastic at it. honestly, we spent a great portion of my childhood on wheels, mostly skates and rollerblades because i have yet to master the bicycle. we spent hours rollerblading up and down cracked sidewalks and streets, around corners and down hills, in the daytime, afternoon or at night because it was awesome. also we took hella trips to the roller rink with the school or otherwise, skating to songs like “ladies night” and “staying alive” –was awesome. well, i tried to rollerblade today and to say the least, i fell on my ass. i had just decided to skate away from natalie because she offended me and as she approached i just fell extremely hard. i was rattled, doing a partial cry and laugh, an odd whimper that was slightly dog like and i felt like a fool. damn rollerblades.

not knowing what to make for dinner tonight, natalie and i decided to make french fries from scratch, like my mother used to do. natalie claims to never had made them at all and i haven’t made them in about six years, so you can imaging impending trouble as we dropped the slices of potato into boiling oil. they didn’t turn out too bad, but not perfect. natalie’s deep fryer has no temperature control, so in a way it was like man versus machine as far as us trying to have our food cooked thoroughly. stupid deep fryer. i knew that i should have just made it on the stove like my mother used to. she was terribly fabulous at making french fries… they were always crisp, well seasoned and delicious. one day i’ll do my mother proud… one day.

lily allen and the cool kids: very different, very cool.

10 Jun

both lily allen and the cool kids are exceptional in their ability to not only skillfully deliver verse in an effective way, but double as amazing entertainers. they are lively, vocal and fluid when approaching their craft and perform with wit, charm and vivacious energy. the stunning english lily allen serenades with love ballads, utters about broken hearts and sings about arrogant men. songs such as “smile”, “LDN” and “fuck you” shows her mastery with careless honesty. chuck inglish and mickey rocks of the cool kids produce rap that entertains chicago’s aesthetic of thoughtful lyrics over well harmonized, melodic sound –harping notions of early ‘90s hip hop. songs such as “bassment party”, “i rock” and “pennies” keep us well informed why they are the coolest kids we know.

their music and several other artists help to feed my musical addiction, and fuel my fascination with beats, lyrics and harmonies. I’m a fanatic for most genres; variety propels my life and makes me happy. I honestly waste hours…if you can call it waste….listening to music while slumming it in my room. Music accompanies me on my long walks, homework assignment, the sporadic trip to the gym, sit downs while readings and hypothetical romantic ventures. long story short, music does the soul good.

also, bee-tee-dubs the cool kids are giving away their new cd to download for free:

dia tres.

9 Jun

so natalie and i just saw the hangover, extremely funny –quite vulgar but made me laugh to no end. once leaving the theater (maybe partially envious of their misadventure due to alcohol) we decided maybe just maybe we would drink when we got back to natalie’s apartment –not like we had anything else to do, afterall. so we hopped right over to mejers, which was only feet away from the theater and bought some seagram. we of course don’t want to get in as much trouble or cause nearly as much mayhem but we do want to have fun and that’s all that matters. not to say that fun doesn’t happen without alcohol, but one must admit that alcohol does give a certain kick to any situation. –not only are we gonna drink but we’re gonna make an awesome garlic cheese ball and eat it. mmmm. though we did just finish off one, hmm… but can you ever really have enough cheese ball? so yeah, a cheese ball and a nice little mix drink of kool aid and vodka. we’re ready to go.
i suck because i haven’t written at all today, and it is no excuse that i was out and about quite a bit because what about when i start working? i really need to get my act together. i need to get a writing schedule down and abide by it. otherwise what’s the real point of it all, of me wanting to be a writer yet i not wanting to write. i should finish at least one 500 worder today. even if my words are drunk. i think that i need to churn out something today and i will. mhmm. –well at least i worked on my resume today which was a difficult feat, i had to recollect what i’d been doing for the last few years, which was a tad harder than i thought it would be.

okay, so fast forward into the night, i am not drunk but i am trying to write…unsuccessfully. i’m not drunk by any means, barely having had two shots, so i’m just sober as a kitten. natalie is fishing through music for songs, and i’m trying to get my writing mind in order, so that i don’t feel like such a turd. –natalie is trying to have a literal knuckle fight with me. unfortunately she will lose.

summer, despite not knowing…

7 Jun

so, i just left school yesterday after sticking around for senior week and graduation, forced to watch the departure of several of my most favorite people, unfortunate because of the year that i have left at school. absolutely am not a fan.

this is to be a summer of possibility, internship and finding a job that will allow me the time to spend hours writing everyday. i plan to sit on the ground of my twin sister’s studio apartment and spur out words that will lace the lines of my notebooks, word document pages or any other canvas for my linguistic design; completing and editing old stories, beginning new ones and trying out different styles of writing. also a part of this writing summer is this blog which not only should keep track of the very little things that i will be doing this summer, but also will in some ways document my process. i intend to not give this up as i have journals and diaries in my childhood/adolescent past. -now only to make this happen…

the internship that i am supposed to have for the summer seems to be having a few problems finding someone to train me, therefore they can’t, until they bring someone in. sucks for me. i need to do the foot work necessary to find my self a job, anywhere. i’m not terribly picky at this point. though i honestly don’t want to housecleaning, simply isn’t my forte. my dream for the summer is to find a job simply doing retail, writing or maybe even dj-ing somewhere…oh man, i would love to dj.

well this is day one of my summer. postings are to come, illustrating my life as a writer, sloth, musical enthusiast and random person in general.

summer ’09