Wednesday, August 31, 2005

Sooooooooooo
Nobody comments here anymore and my visit counter is creeping ever so slowly onward. I don't really know how to get people to come around anymore.
YOu know.. i bet it all comes down to who you visit.

God, wish I had the drive like some of you.
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Monday, August 29, 2005

   Another one ! I'm a posting maniac.
Beneath The Bridge
I sit in a space of relics,
amassing old tombs -
down by the river where time has stopped for a precious few who engrave their souls on the underside of a bridge.
Is this a place for me?
Do I throw my guts against the wall like so many before me?

Their words are fading ...
"a tempermental feeling that it's all coming down.
Like black rain beating down on me --"
signed "I was here, the outcast"

"sitting by the water's edge I feel serenity,
but within my heart is one regret,
she was not here with me ..."
signed "Rick Plunkett"

"when your heart and soul are open -- what happens when one breaks your heart and steals your soul?
My body was here but I was not."
signed "DAB"

"Let me be free" K.A.

Not to mention anonymous prophets -
"You have to accept your fate, even if your fate is unnacceptable"
"Live somewhere between something and hello"
"In just two days tomorrow will be yesterday"
"I'm a stone in the water, while the river runs by me, like my life passing me by"

"No words - in the last few days I had to think,
remembering all that has passed and what was to come.
I need not speak, nor find the words to say
just look into your eyes or touch your hand
between us, hidden emotions travel.
Staring openly into your eyes
Can you see how I feel?
In your embrace, I know for sure that you feel for me what I feel for you."

The voices call out to me --
stuck in ageless waters.
Many jumped after they sat where I sit today.
Many cried after they scribed their last words.
Many grew too frightened
Many grew too tired
Many read what I read and decided to read some more

It was some unspoken hunger within me that drove me to the river.
Some listless wanting that forced me further toward the edge.
I wanted to jump as I have always wanted, because I want so much and have so little energy to try so hard to watch it all float away so fast.
and I wanted to know if I could.
If I would.

It's not a suicidal play with the pleasure of pain.
It's not a desire to be free or to feel oblivion greet me with cold fire in my lungs.
It's not the lonliness or the anxiety
It's not the future or the lack of foresight
It's not love
or hate
or missing either

It's the question
where is my soul?
and the answers I find are in no place I would have looked had I not felt the desperation so deeply

My soul is where "black rain beats down on me"
where "I feel serenity"
where "my body was here but I was not"
where I was "free" not "to accept your fate"
living "somewhere between something"
and "tomorrow" and "yesterday"
"in the water where the runs by me like my life"
and the last part
where my soul is --
or what it may be, lies in the words of a wishful somebody who wrote them just for me
so I would read instead of test my flightless body for the possibility that gravity might malfunction today
"I know for sure you feel for me what I feel for you"
Such a wish ---
I wish that none of them will be forgotten
Every one shares my soul - once I found it
beneath the bridge, at the waters edge

-----------
a brief explanation of this. I actually did go and sit down by the Snake River that runs through my city. I looked for a quiet spot to write a poem. I looked up from my little spot underneath an old bridge and found these words written in pencil, pen, marker all over the wood and metal of the bridge. These are real people, and real thoughts. This amazed me. Therefore - my poem changed dramatically to a homage for these not so forgotten.
---------------------------
Solitary Confinement
In splendid waves of anxious blue
a long breath in the sand
the sky and desert call to me
- the enchanted empty hand


to take, I give grave betting strength
for all I've ever known
a vastly endless wandering
is all I have been shown

So torn away from home,
my self inflicted wound.
destruction always longed for,
but till now I've always swooned

I bide my time on seas of thought
a salty ocean ride --
mostly tears from my own eyes
and with one mask, I hide

For who can pause inside my head
to banish torrid trains
or step away from a twirling world
and rid himself of chains
to ease my overburdened mind
and distract my withered heart
to hold on to my dreams awhile
before I tear them apart . . . ?

If days of freedom swing before me,
this pendulum counts too fast
an unknown blue sky calls to me,
but wander-lust can't last
and deserts, forests, waterfalls,
Paris, Rome, Bei-jing
will slowly swallow all my words
til I'm tired and empty still - - -

Caged by "fear" and angered by "fate" - leaving doesn't seem the best answer
and my hands already so aching from picking at the pieces of myself - chipped away - oh so heartlessly broken -
have little strength to try again
I have to try again
if only for the sake of seeing the sky for one more day
and smiling at the clouds that guide my way
---------
I'm not exactly sure what this one means in all possible ways. So go ahead and give any thoughts .. really anything.. I"m actually asking here


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Saturday, August 27, 2005

Look at me! Two posts in two days !! Bwahahahah.
Okay. So I have nothing better to do. I'm sitting here actually just waiting for this person to IM me.. he isn't going to.. but I somehow just keep hoping that he will.. and yet he won't. just won't. phoo. what a wanker. for now. '


sides that.
I saw the 40 Year old virgin. SOO funny. And a great plot and movie to boot. really good stuff. Everyone who can handle sex comedy should totally go see it!

K.

And also saw RED EYE .. which was good too, but pretty creepy. cillian murphy is way hott though. so definitely worth seeing.

and ... there was something else.
oh yeah. my website .. other one is a myspace one if any of you go there too. just so i'll have more friends. that'd be nice.
Poesia Sekai - ie. Poetry World My Myspace Website.

And that's all folks.
Hope everyone has a FABULOUS weekend! I know I will.. or at least I'll try.

I might go to yellowstone. that'dd =be ccool.. like the national park.
have any of you ever been there?

- hugs -

maarii
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Friday, August 26, 2005

Yeesh.
I was trying to think of something to update with today. some writing i've been doing or something.
but *sniffle* my laptop has been sent away! *wails*
Ooh. how I miss my sweet lappy.
It's because the keyboard was more than a little broken. and the battery was shot to hell.

I wont even get the thing back before I go to college in a week and a day! CRAP!~

Oh well. Thanks for the three people who read the short story.. which isn't over. that's not the end. whatever I did post there's probably like two three pages more at least maybe even five. but i don't have a laptop and there fore have no will to write.

anyway. i'll try to march around the sites today.

bye bye .

*hugs and hearts *
maarii
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Monday, August 22, 2005

another part to short story
.” She took a step away from me then, and I thought she was going to scream or laugh. She just looked at me differently, and I suddenly felt myself being molded by her contemplation. The air on my skin was chill instead of sterling, because I could feel it, just as I could feel the grains of earth between my toes. I became human for her eyes. “You look like a fairy,” she said.
“Why?” I asked.
“The wings,” she said, squinting at me. “And your skin is … I don’t know, but you’re too pretty to be real.”
“I’m not used to this,” I said. “This form is what you make of me. I’m not usually human, or winged or any of it.”
“So this is a dream then, and you’re only what I want to see? It makes sense,” she breathed out one long, relieved breath. “I was worried for a second. I really don’t want to go crazy.”
“Nor do I,” I laughed. “I don’t speak with humans, not even in their dreams.” I peered at her through my lengthy eyelashes, knowing that no human could transform me with her gaze unless I wanted it as much as she. “If this is a dream, then I haven’t dreamed in such a long long time.”
She stared at me. “It doesn’t feel like a dream, though, and that’s odd.” She chuckled under her breath, avoiding my gaze. Her human face was not particularly striking to me, what with its odd proportions. The way she stood, though, with her hip tilted, arms folded over her ribs, accented her shape, and it was very feminine. “You’re starting at me,” she said.
“I am.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re beautiful in my moonlight. Not many humans can look so elegant in these shades of pearled gray.” I shivered. “Are you cold?”
“A little,” she tugged at her shirt, trying to make it cover her hips. I noticed that my garments were also not so conservative. My arms and most of my chest were bare, covered by a dark swath of material that clung to me like the moonlight. “So exactly who are you again?”
“I don’t think I can explain,” I said.
“You can try,” she said. She did look cold, or maybe she was hugging her self for a sense of safety.
“I won’t harm you … I … I only wanted to watch you,” I said. I stepped across the ground to touch her, but she jerked back.
“Watch me? Why?” Her words held many accusations.
“Because you love the moonlight, like me. You see the way it changes things, the way it scatters illusion and lights up the world with truth. You see … me… you truly see.” My eyes captivated her eyes, and her eyes beguiled mine. The view hypnotized us both. She bit her bottom lip, and I smiled. She smiled back, and my world was illuminated by something so much greater than moonlight.

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Sunday, August 21, 2005

short story part 1
“I only saw the moonlight,” she wrote. “I only saw the world in black and white, and I never imagined it would have been as it was. I didn’t think I’d ever see through the blindness.” She pressed her eyes closed, urgently trying to remember. All the memories were fading so fast in her mind. She must recall his face. If only she wouldn’t lose that.
“His eyes were silver amber when he smiled, a gem among the beauty of his features. Soft brow, hard jaw, strong nose, gentle lips. These things I’d only imagined in dreams, I saw under that moonlight. I saw only the moonlight.” She tried to catch the tears before they hit the paper. The ink bled across the white page, turning a white world gray. She dabbed at the splotch with the corner of her night shirt. She had to write it all down before it was swallowed by the reality of day. “If I just hadn’t said it,” she whispered to the crinkled sheets of paper. She squeezed her eyes shut ever harder, blocking out the light and the memory of all it had cost her to truly see.
“I only saw the moonlight,” she whispered over and over again, and she was convinced that eventually it would be the truth.

She woke up that night because of the moon, but I didn’t intend to show her anything else. I have no control of their lives, the humans that live in this world. Most of them have been blind for so long that the word ‘seeing’ has lost all meaning. But the moonlight woke her up, as it always has, and I wanted to watch her again. Her reaction was like none I’ve ever seen before. First she thrust her hand into the light, waving it this way and that, examining the way her skin looked under moonlight as bright as day. Then she got up from her bed as if possessed by a desire to explore this light. She walked silently to an open window and breathed in deeply, and she closed her eyes. That was the moment she brought me out into the open. In that instant she saw only the moonlight behind her closed lids, and when she opened her eyes she saw only what the moonlight hides.
She gasped very quietly, because my moonlight tends to silence even the most naturally loud noises. “Don’t be frightened,” I said. “I won’t hurt you.” I hadn’t realized how close I was to the screen that separated her eyes from mine.
“Who are you?” Her voice was honeysuckle in the stillness.
“I am this,” I said.
“What?” She got closer to the partition between us, putting her hand on the window sill and raising herself to my eye level.
“I am the moonlight,” I touched the screen and it dissolved under my hand.
“Wah-ait… wait,” she jumped back and caught her footing before she fell.
“I’m sorry,” I said, and took away the light. As her face fell into shadow, a sadness filled my heart. I only wanted to see her eyes shimmer beneath my moonlight.
She disappeared into the darkness of her home. I wanted to recede back into the sanctuary of shadows, once again become only the moonlight, but I also wanted her to come back. I didn’t’ know why.
Then another window slid open with a sucking sound as it pulled away from the wall. “Who are you?” she asked as she stood at the open window. “What are you?”
I was pulled towards her, within a fingers length of touching her warm skin. “I am only the moonlight.” I said.
My words seemed to chill her, but she was also drawn to me. She braced her arm on the open sill and pulled her legs up into the small opening. Then she was standing on the cool dirt, so close to me that the house she inhabited seemed to become intangible and totally unimportant. “Tell me who you are, truthfully.”
I searched my mind for a name, for a definition that she could understand. Humans have such strange ways of looking at the world but never really seeing it. A thought raced through me, “I’m the Fae of the Moon, the King of the Night, and sometimes Creator of Dreams,” I blurted out.
Her mouth twisted sideways and her eyebrows lowered. “You’re a fairy?”
I sighed.
“Goodness gracious,” she said. “You’re a fairy.”
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Saturday, August 20, 2005

Since no one read it the first time
If there was a space and time equivalent to that of the lonliness that abounds in a world full of lonely people all being lonely together, it would be great. I tell you, because I'm one of them. I'm one more of the pathetic excuses for one who loves her lonliness, because it is her friend. A friend with chains attached, strings attached to her heart/soul/mind/chi/aura and all the other names for the transitive verbs to describe our insanity we call perception of being.

Lonely. Sickeningly easy to love.

And it isn't fucking fair.
Fucking fair it isn't.
I know it isn't only me
I know it is the world.
The whole world and all the people in it, I'm utterly un-unique. I'm completely mundane.
Why doesn't that stop me from feeling it?
Is that supposed to be a fucking comfort?
I'm not alone ... but I still hurt.

Abandonment has always been my greatest fear.
Because I can't find self worth on my own.
Because I've tried so hard, I don't pity myself or others.
I've tried so hard.
And this is my life, I'll deal with it.

But it isn't fair.
Why am I never good enough?
Why am I never smart enough?
Why am I never brave enough?
Why am I never bold enough?
Why am I never pretty enough?
Why am I never interesting enough?
Why am I never good enough?
Why am I never spontaneous enough?
Why am I never kind enough?
Why am I never the right person?
I'm never the right person.
I'm just a shade off of a true blue, aren't I ?
I'm just a shade below lovable.
A shade beneath worth it.
I'm a shade away from normal but beyond help getting to eccentrically captivating.

I don't believe I'm good enough. Do I?
If I beleive it hard enough, will it be true?
Wishes, my pitiful wishes when I'm sitting on the warm grass by a tall tree and I'm crying wishes.
I'm crying, "Come back, please come back. I know what I'll say to you. I can be brave enough to say it. I can be good enough to convince you that my love is worth aknowledging."
Through my tears my words could have been heard by someone, if anyone was around to hear them.
"Please, and I'm sorry. I wanted to say them. I wanted to make you believe me. It isn't my imagination. It isn't my need. I want to ....
I want to love you."
Had anyone been around, maybe words could have spoken louder than actions, and wishes spoken louder than words. Maybe they would have spoken as loud as prayers, or something like them.
Pitiful wishes. And denying regret is no better. Regret. I hate regret. I don't want to hate anything. I don't want to hate loving.
Wishes don't change reality. The reality of the swing, and me on the ground, and the tree next to me where he stood so cool so calm and collected. The road where he drove off into the distance. Is it my fault I don't want to do this anymore? Is it my fault that the only lie I've ever uttered is, "sure I'll keep in touch." The only lie I ever knew I was laying for sure. The only lie I don't know if I can keep.
Wishes don't drive time backwards.
Unicorns don't exist.
Kind of the same thing in my mind.
You can wish, but children wish. And children aren't good enough to love like that. Children are just children.
And I'm still a child.
I still want to be a child.
Because children have hope, and despair is limited to five minute outbursts - banished with a sundae.
Because children have dreams, and nightmares are stories washed away by hugs and kisses.
Because children can create the world, even though the world already exists.. it changes.
Because children feel as much, see as much, love as hard, and hurt worse then any adult I've ever known.
Because I'm a child in my heart.
I'm afraid of growing up and losing all of this.
I'm not sorry I haven't grown up yet.
I'm not sorry I fell in love when I didn't want to, when I couldn't understand it.
I'm not sorry that I'm not good enough.
I'm not sorry that I'm not the right person.
I'm not the right person, if you can't even care.
If you can't see beyond your boundries, tying you up into definitions and memories and keeping you spinning like a top in the bowl of the world.
The whole world spins, why do you have too?

I'm not apologizing for my melodramatics, or my ignorance of convention. I'm not going to pretend that I'm okay, and that I'm not abandoned and that my life will stay the same.
I'm not going to be afraid to love again, like you and your fear of truth.
So afraid to hurt me that you hurt me more than you could possibly imagine.

And I'm not blaming you.
I'm showing you a gray world, shadeless of color, where your boundries and your fears don't apply.
I'm showing you a bigger picture of self.
It's called change.
People can change ifthey want to.
I'm showing you the tree, the swing, the tears from a different perspective.
I'm showing you a heart and a soul and an aura and a mind that you don't deserve to try to understand.
You won't try to understand anymore.
This is the last of it, isn't it?

I bet you think this is all about you? Don't you?
Don't I?

Maybe it's the climax to my mid-life-crisis.
I'll survive somehow.
I always do.

But why can't the surviving start now?
Why doesn't it help to know that most lose and never love at all?
Why can't I fix myself for good?
I'll be happy, I can find it easily enough in a wide field with the sunshine and the wind and the warm grass I've cried into so many times.
I can find it.
Alone.

The space and time equal to lonliness exists in the moment you realize your heart has been broken.
The space and time of lonliness ... when you have to decide to live lonely or not live at all.

space and time

and love and lonely

and heartache and the appreciation thereof

the night
when I think of all this
and I write
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Thursday, August 11, 2005

*More Kare Kano Madness Orchestrated!*
Sooo, who knew that barns were so pretty and quite interesting? I didn't m, until I went to see the barn-again exhibit at our local art museum. THat was a good wasteof time... sorry it really wasn't a waste of time, I mean. It was a good way to get out of the heat.

I've been ... soooo sleepy lately. Does being sad make you sleepy. If so,I better concentrate on being happy more. Even though things are frustrating and sad, and confusing, and I'm making a mess of my life and I don't even know anymore where I want to be or go or do ...
soooo Happy! Concentration on the happy.

I'm also just kind of sitting around. Sitting. I play guitar and stuff, and work of course, making that all important green paper. But i don't really make it. .. i "earn " it. and yet, it's just ... soo not worth it. We get green paper, which buys so much stuff. And yet, the money i make i don't even connect with my job, it's like once i have it I spend it anyway.

I hate money ... it really does not matter to me.

so .. this next birthday will be anime central! I'm going to h opefully get a lot stuff. i can't wait. but i'll have to .. WAIT!!!! Only like twomonths !!!!!!!!!!! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH I'mgetting old !!! OLD

Okay - hahahaha. I"m just freaking out for boredoms sake.

K. Going to stop tormenting you with randominiity .

BYEBYE
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Thursday, August 4, 2005

Blah dee bwah
I'm soo out of it today. I laid in bed thinking about stuff for like an hour.. just laying there. I didn't even read. I didn't really do anything.

Oh boy....

Now I can't think of what I was going to type at all.

Yah yah yah ...

sooo what a pointless entry.


What's your favorite Dog (breed or specific real or fiction) ?


- maarii out
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Monday, August 1, 2005

*ba-ba-da-bah.* Singing kare-kano melody
Today I went shopping, I know, doesn'ty make much sense when I just talked aboutmoney problems, eh? Well, it is my Best friends birthday on friday and this is like the last birthday before college so I really needed to treat her to something. So.. I bought drawing pencils kit, sketch book, the novel "Siddartha" by herman Hesse *fantastic book!*, and a cute bookmark!

While I was in B&N I saw the new Clamp manga , I thikn it's called , Legal Drug. I was wondering if it's any good. But since it's clamp I got so excited I almost bought it on the spot. Could have been dangerous, I almost ran out of money! I also almost bought some classics that were buy 2 get 1 free. Like Dickens, HG Wells, Jane Austen, Dostoevsky, and etc. Too bad for me, I still have to buy my books at freakin old places where I get em 25 cents a piece.

As for me, I'm getting along. I realized the other day how much I would miss a particular boy I've been in love with for a while now *i suppose no one will remember but it's unrequited - not returned* And that was hard, but I just wrote it out. Sounds odd. BUt I did. I wrote poetry and let the emotions go on the page instead of to my heart.

I have tomorrow off and Wednesday too. Thank GOD! I'm sooo relieved. There is nothing better than a whole day of doing nothing. Well, I didn't do NOTHING but it was still relaxing.

Tha'ts all for now.

- What's your favorite kind of Cheese?-

Sweet Legal Drug pics.

I love CLAMP !



Read the review here !
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