Ink to Bark

Edit Red Widget

2007-11-19T23:09:00.000-05:00

Visit Editred.com
I don't think I will be updating this particular blog anymore; I'm too busy and spazzed to try to keep my writing, my crafts, and general life separate. I now have one blog where everything will be posted from now on. It's organized with labels so you can click on "writing" and read only that if you wish.

This blog (Ink to Bark) will stay up so anyone who wants to come back and read the old stuff I've published here can do so.

Futhermore I added this nifty widget up there. I update Edit Red quite often to get critique on my work. That widget will always display my last four stories posted so feel free to keep dropping by here to keep checking it (Or just drop by my ER profile often).

Thanks for reading. <3

Cinders

2007-01-28T19:01:00.000-05:00

The Challenge:

175 words or less, has to start with "What annoyed me the most was that it was my best blouse/shirt"

The Result:

What annoyed me the most was that it was my best blouse; a silk piece I bought because Glamour convinced me white took away years from a face. Now my $450 fountain of youth was, literally, up in smoke.
My husband's hand whipped up the iron but the damage was done. The shirt was unwearable, nothing more than a dishrag. Enraged I flung the blouse into our bedroom fireplace and let it burn.
"...I'm sorry," my husband muttered.
"I'm sorry," I mocked. "After 15 years you still can't iron clothing correctly. What a goddamn idiot." The smack that followed was familiar to his cheek but something had changed in his eyes.

"Elizabeth. I'm done."

I stared at flames the whole time he packed. His few belongings were thrown into the trunk of his car and the squeal of tires screamed promises of a divorce.

When sunrise crept into my room the following morning it found me by the fireplace, fingering the ashes of something that used to fit me so well.

More Than Anything

2007-01-27T00:46:00.001-05:00

I cannot think of you in terms of love
nor recall the comfort your voice brings
or crave caresses I swore I'd forget
I'll make plans instead
to memorize every star in my piece of sky
to witness every sunset and sunrise
Inevitably I'll cry and whisper your name
into the dark
against the light
The truth is the sun doesn't seem as warm
When it's not reflected in your eyes

When I Was A Child

2007-01-24T13:18:00.000-05:00

I wanted to touch the sky
and at some point that dream left me
and I grew content with feeling the earth
beneath my tired hands

One Thing Left To Say

2007-01-17T13:23:00.000-05:00

Does your clever tongue warn you of the bruise
before my fist even swings?

Primer

2006-11-29T19:36:00.000-05:00

For days after witnessing my first murder, I could remember details. I remembered clothing, hairstyles, the sound of voice of the devil walking around the block with his gun in hand. I remembered grandma leaning in close and telling me "I don't care if you were up that night. I don't care you were at the window. You saw nothing. Nothing." She knew (and I would soon learn) seeing meant questions. Seeing meant people knocking on your door. Seeing meant people reminding you you have a baby brother and it would be a real shame for that cute baby to get hurt, wouldn't it? So that's how details got turned into nothing.

In the years that have come and gone the colours are muted, the mouths are moving but silent until I hear the solitary boom of a gunshot. I still dream of the blood that ran down the street until morning, until the body was wrapped and taken away, until the restaurant's owner began hosing down the blood so it ran into the gutter.

The first time you never think you'll get over the sight. Then you see more and more. Then eventually "I didn't see nothing" rolls off your tongue easier than your name.

Algunas

2006-10-24T23:54:00.000-04:00

Algunas veces las lagrimas son tanto --
Se recolectan en el pie de mi cama como un mar
Algunas veces la ansiedad es un tornado--
Se vuelve una fuerza de movimiento,
bailarines,
pedazos de luz,
chispas contra mi cara
Pero muchas veces el paz viene en la forma de tu voz
Cuando pienso en usted, antes de dormir, el susurro de tu respiracion, --tan profundo, tan dulce-- me trae sueños maravillosos
El secreto es que algunas veces me atrevo a imaginarme al lado de usted
Tu piel contra la mia, tus manos calmando mi dolor
Y aqui, en mi cama en el centro del mar, podemos encontrar la felicidad

Pero sueños maravillosos como este son pocos y lejos de realidad

Dearest You

2006-10-24T13:11:00.000-04:00

Pretending you loved me was a broken way to pass the time
A failed attempt to gather shards of glass with hands tied
To pick up what remained of my soul with closed eyes

Dearest dearest how I wish calling your name in the dark
(whispering a "come on, come back, come back" plea)
could do something to ease this miserable ache
But instead it reminds me my heart is still intact:
Sadly, this game was played by two
Simply, I never loved you at all

The Tide (WIP)

2006-09-27T15:04:00.000-04:00

The Tide
...

With my eyes closed I can
Still picture your footsteps in the sand
Still I can't make them stay
The tide, the monster I can't fight,
Cradles and rocks you away

On the shore,
Just beyond my reach,
is where I keep the fondest memories of you
Sometimes the moon hits just right and I remember:
Those days you stayed
Those days you looked at me, licked your lips, and
I knew...
Just for a moment...
You had a taste of my name

WIP: Que El Mundo Esperes

2006-08-02T23:22:00.000-04:00

"Que el mundo esperes!” was his favourite thing to say. “Let the world wait. Let them all wait.”
Martino sat on his haunches on street corners in front of the bodega, spewing his druggie philosophy to anyone who passed by. Rushing rushin rushing! He’d say. Always rushing me. “Que el mundo esperes! Me Oyen?” His bloodshot eyes wandered to the sky and he gave a crooked grin.
Like clockwork people would begin to shoo him away at dusk. “Time to go home, hombre.” The shopkeepers shook the brooms as if Martino was nothing more than dust or cobwebs.
“Rushing! Always rushing me!” And he would leave. But one day, one day Martino took his last drink, his last hit, his last theory on life hit the pavement hard and he stopped. “What am I doing?” he said to me. I was buying cigarettes from the window. I hadn’t even noticed the man next to me. No one notices the bums anymore.
“I said, what am I doing? I need to be doing something better than this.” I clutched my matches close to my chest and watched Martino pour his whiskey into the gutter. He turned to me, cocked his head. “You’re 2K’s little girl, right? Yes?” I nodded and saw, for a brief moment, clarity in his eyes.
“Senorita, el dinero.” The clerk startled me and I handled a five dollar bill.
“Let all the world stop now!” Martino had wandered out into the street.
“Hey…Hey! You’re going to get hit.” I waved away the change and ran to the edge of the sidewalk. Martino! Marty, get back onto the sidewalk!”
“Que el mundo esperes! There is so much more than this!” he yelled one last time and raised his arms up wide.

With a squeal of tires the world stopped right there, right before my eyes.

Memorias Escondidas En Mi Espina Dorsal

2006-07-03T14:32:00.000-04:00

They say the strongest sense tied to memory is a sense of smell but for me it is sound. I was lying in bed listening to Pearl Jam when Eddie Vedder struck a chord that sent me flying back years. The sensation linked my ears to my nose then flodded down my spine, a tickle, an awakening. Ahhh, there's the memory I was looking for.

I see eleven and lying on my old bed, VS spinning in my yellow cd player...then the smells came back, the subtle whiff of roach motels and sprays, the taste of rusty metal pipes on my tongue, the gummy bowl of holy water my mother kept in the fridge for 16 years...did it save us at all? Did my life begin to fall apart when the bowl was removed, and it's precious liquid heaven spilled down our clogged drains? VS was on that day as well, with the chug chug of holy water harmonizing on "Animal"

All of this was nestled deeply in the base of my spine.

The Bright Lover on the Windowsill

2006-05-30T17:23:00.000-04:00

The bright lover on the windowsill never let her down. it never complained, it never needed to be fed, it never needed appeasing, though it gave into her so quickly. A television might not seem like a good lover, and perhaps it wasn't, but she survived. She had the constant hum, a schedule, dependability. It made her laugh and that, love, was better than anything any man had ever given her.

Muddled

2006-05-02T10:23:00.000-04:00

On rainy days Jasmine's thoughts were muddled, messy, slushy like snow that's been in the streets of the city for so long. On rainy days, foggy days, it was hard to concentrate on the past or the future and the present could only be seen in fractions. On these rainy days Jasmine didn't know where she was going or where she came from. The worn, peeling sign said "Psychic. Fin Out Wht Your Futur Holds" because some of the letters had washed off years ago. On rainy days the water beats against the wide glass windows . The rows of candles, cards and herbs look frightening; the rows of saints on the windows look menacing, a cruel expression on even the gentlest of faces. On rainy days Jasmine places her tarot cards in their velvet bag before lunch time, puts her crystal ball back on the shelf before noon, calls it a day while the sun is still at it's highest point in the sky somewhere behind those clouds. "It's no use," she mutters. "I can't see anything on days like this." On rainy days Jasmine's botanica is closed, and if you approach the door hoping to find a clue or a cure, all you'll find is a locked door and angry saints staring at you from the window.

Garden

2006-04-26T20:23:00.000-04:00

Let us fill ourselves with words
Hatred, love, indifference
Spiraling into a perfect shell
An enclosure of petals

This fragile warmth is
A heart or two,
Yours and mine,
No longer beating as one,
Scarred and jaded in their own way,
Until you get too close, too close
With words you don’t mean

Hatred, love, and indifference
Spiraling into a perfect shell
You make my heart burst and bloom
And blaze
Until the very last enders fall upon yours

With love,
The ashes

The Man

2006-04-24T16:01:00.000-04:00

I thought I wanted a man to entertain me;
A man who wouldn't think of home-cooked meals
Or associate our love with wedding rings or the word "future"
I thought I wanted a man to excite me,
To be the kind of man I couldn't bring home
He would be mine to kiss behind close doors, to speak to in hush tones
So it could be our secret and the happiness would be ours alone
I thought I wanted a man to care for me but is it a surprise
or a shame
that I broke his heart at the first chance I could?
That he was foolish enough to think I could keep my wild fires roaring
under this glass, under his watchful eye, under the pressure?
I thought I wanted a man to love me
And he did so much I ran all the way to the door

Dorothy

2006-04-21T22:22:00.000-04:00

Dorothy is sitting in the corn fields
Wondering about Oz
Wandering about Oz in her memories
Thinking of how she's seen so much
Grown in leaps and bounds
How she wore rubies alongside her simple cottons
and colours
And it only got her here
The place she had been dying to leave the whole time

Kansas just doesn't seem so good anymore

Dive In

2006-04-19T12:19:00.000-04:00

Eventually this facade will drop
You'll see I'm not as young as I say I am
Because the year of my birth means nothing
When all my memories are in black
and white
and sepia
If my skin is young, as you say, then let my tired eyes betray me
(I'm not as young as I say I am!)
I am aged and rooted here like a fine oak
who cannot move if not for the wind
So I'll let the wind, I'll let you if you wish, carry pieces of me
My seeds, my life, all I have to give, take them elsewhere
So I may sprout and bloom
In places I've never even seen

Falter

2006-04-09T19:02:00.000-04:00

I will sit here writing a letter to you until it is done.
Until my words are spent. Until my hands falter.
Until my pen forgets how to form the letters that form the words that form this message that form a storm cloud over those little intricate parts of yourself you failed to show the world.
I am horribly pleased with the way we've died; the slow ascent towards promise and the quick flick of my wrist (my pen) that cut the rope and sent us (you and I) crashing towards the jagged rocks below.
I will sit here, even then, writing these words that need to be said. Until my words are spent. Until my hands falter. Until the letters give way. But not until I realize I still love you, that I always will.
No. The letter will be written and sent long before then.

The Kindess of Strangers

2006-04-07T15:41:00.000-04:00

When I look back on my days,
my good days,
know the kindess of stranger mattered more than yours
Their smiles were brighter than yours
Their words more genuine than yours
And the value of our time together doesn't equal much
when it becomes routine to say how much you care

Sparrow

2006-04-04T11:02:00.000-04:00

There's a dancer on the corner of Park
who moves her body like trees in the breeze,
the ocean lapping at the shore,
The sun setting behind a quiet world
When she moves her hips just right they strike the sun
and force a million shards, the stars, into the sky

Nagame Wa Ii Desu

2006-03-19T19:13:00.000-05:00

New look, new address.

Update your damn bookmarks.

<3

La Verdad

2006-02-24T11:31:00.000-05:00

Hay una diferencia entre "te quiero" y "te amo". Ahora yo, más que siempre, deseo un amor puro y fuerte. Deseo tu susurros en la noche, tu pasion, tu alma. Y me pide lo mismo porque eso es lo que tengo que dar. Yo no deseo "te quiero," otros me ha dado ese regalo. Quiero tu amor...Necesito tu amor como ningún otro. Pues, aqui al fin, te pregunto, me amas? Me quieres? O no piensas en me totalmente?

Nothing

2006-02-08T22:48:00.000-05:00

"Nothing in this life is free," she says in between drags. I realize then I want to be her cigarette if only to be pressed between her lips.
"I can be free," I say. The moment I do I hear how shallow and how sleazy it sounds. Still she gives a deep, hearty laugh. Her smoke runs up my nose.
"Nothing in this life is free. Not even love," she repeats. "It consumes you. It kills you." I look down at my manicured nails and pick at the nailpolish. "That cigarette will kill you faster than love can."
Stella grabbed my chin with her left hand. She looks me right in the eyes. "Love can kill with just a look. Didn't you know that?"
"No, I guess not." But I understood it perfectly because I couldn't look away from her. My tortured Stella, the peroxide blonde in mismatched heels and a dress too tight at the hips but too wide at the bust.
"No, of course not. How could you know anything?" She kissed me then, unexpectedly, almost nonchalantly. For me it was everything I wasn't expecting; it was better and I wanted more. Before I could put my hand on her head and draw her in closer she pulled away. The neckline of her dress fell and a perfect breast was exposed to the cold.
"Whoops," she muttered, fixing herself. She patted her chest and took another drag of her cigarette. "I better go in before Mike finds me out here. I can't afford another black eye." She turned and left, flicking her lit buzz into the air, as if nothing had happened. For me the world had been turned on it's back.
"Stel, you're hurting me." I whimpered into the doorway.
Every word was true. Nothing in this life was free. Not even love.
I took a look at the cigarette in the snow and crushed it with my shoe. Perhaps I thought it would make Stella go away but it did nothing. I still tasted them both on my lips.

Outpouring #3

2006-01-06T00:01:00.000-05:00

There's this selfish hopeless cry I cry nightly to the empty streets
like a mourning dove, a cooing bird waiting for it's mate, it's better half, I'm waiting for my echo,
the piece of the puzzle that's missing
the gap to fill this hole in the deepest of this being
It has been afflicted with crime scene after crime scene; hearts ripped away by people who ran and didn't look back
and now look at me
where this beating organ lay I am now singed, burned, and red
look at me
a completely hopeless girl sitting on the edge of the sidewalk watching a million "maybes" pass her by,
watching one "for certain" avoid her eyes,
watching one "love" slip just out of her grasp

And this wounded dove does nothing but wave.

Songs About the New Year

2006-01-01T12:48:00.000-05:00

The New Year - Death Cab for Cutie

So this is the new year.
And i don't feel any different.
The clanking of crystal
Explosions off in the distance (in the distance).

So this is the new year
And I have no resolutions
For selfl assigned penance
For problems with easy solutions

So everybody put your best suit or dress on
Let's make believe that we are wealthy for just this once
Lighting firecrackers off on the front lawn
As thirty dialogues bleed into one

I wish the world was flat like the old days
Then i could travel just by folding a map
No more airplanes, or speedtrains, or freeways
There'd be no distance that can hold us back.

There'd be no distance that could hold us back [x2]

So this is the new year [x4]

Together We'll Ring In The New Year - Motion City Soundtrack

this must be it
welcome to the new year
the drinks were consumed
the plants were destroyed and the hor'deurves dismantled
i'm not smiling behind this fake veneer
i am often interrupted or completely ignored
but most of all i'm bored
i'm trying to find out if my words have any meaning
lackluster and full of contempts when it always ends the same
why won't you listen to me
why did i come
oh why did i come here
these humans all suck
i'd rather be home feeling violent and lonely
i'm not trying to sound so insincere
but the postcard that's taped to the freezer reads "wish you were here"
how i wish i could disappear
i'm trying to find out if my words have any meaning
lackluster and full of contempts and it always ends the same
heads up
damage control
there's a ring around her finger
last chance for changing lanes and you missed it by a mile
why won't you listen to me
this must be it
welcome to the new year

2005-12-28T19:34:00.000-05:00

I have these ideas for stories but they never come true. I have lines of poetry in my head that never materialize. I want to write about love (what else) and I have the worst block in the world.

The truth is, I have so many personal things on my mind and words don't come. Not the words I want. The words that are rushing to me are words of panic and heartache and for once that is not what I want to write about. When was the last time I wrote something happy? And how can I write about love, happy love, when I've never had it and am currently experiencing an ache for someone I might possibly never have? The words just won't come out at all.

Oh bother.

2005-12-17T20:39:00.000-05:00

You don't do it on purpose but you make me shake
Now I count the hours 'til you wake.
With your babies breath, breathe symphonies, come on sweet catastrophe.
Maybe this time I can follow through, I can feel complete, stop paying dues
Stop the rain from falling keep my oceans calm
This time I know nothings wrong.

- (Hurricane) The Formal Weather Pattern by Something Corporate

Damn

2005-12-17T13:48:00.000-05:00

Writer's block. Gotta love it.

This Is Nothing Like Kansas

2005-12-16T14:51:00.000-05:00

I am depressed. Truly. I miss the city, I miss my mother, I miss Kyle and I miss my friends. I want to get lost in a crowd and I can't.

I'm sure I'll feel better about all this when I get outside more and when my family comes down but for now I am lonely and I want to go home.

I need to call some people tonight. Anyone want a phone call?

<3 Jess

Yo!

2005-12-13T13:11:00.000-05:00

Hi.

<3 Jess

Adios

2005-12-08T16:53:00.000-05:00

As of Sunday I will no longer be a NYC resident. I will be a tourist, someone who says "Well, I lived in New York City." I feel as if I am moving to a foreign land where you have to drive a car and you must speak english. I don't think there are even hispanic people in my new neighbourhood. Did you know my first language was Spanish? I learned English in Kindergarten. And what will I do in Pinellas Park? What will I do with slower days and longer nights? Where will my queer boys dance and stumble drunkenly through the streets? When is the next time I'll see a group of men huddled in the streets playing dominos? When is the next time I will walk into a supermarket and the owner will say "Hola, Yessica! Que tal?" and I could respond in Spanish without skipping a beat? When I move, will I lose pieces of myself I took for granted?

I won't miss the grand things everyone loves NYC for...I'll miss the little things. I'll miss the cracks in the sidewalk that marked my path for 19 years of my life. I'll miss my language, my people. I'll miss the connection I have to Puerto Rico and La Republica...will I have that again? I already miss the bagels you can only get in NYC (because only NYers know a REAL bagel doesn't come in flavours). I miss the warm pretzels you can buy in central park. I miss the real New York pizza. I miss a cuban sandwich from Washington Heights. I miss conversing with the bus driver. I miss hearing 10 different languages in one day and having that be normal. I miss having the kids break open the hydrant in summer (our ghetto sprinklers). I miss the ghetto. I had a realization yesterday that hit me like a ton of bricks: The murder stats in Pinellas are 0. 0. I will never have to duck to avoid bullets again. Do I know how to do that? In the safest place in the world would I still duck at the slightest sound?

I feel as if I don't know anything anymore. But I'm excited to learn.

Adios, Nueva York. You've been good to me.

I Desperately Need A Hug

2005-12-05T12:38:00.000-05:00

If this whole move falls through, I am going to jump off a roof. Don't care which roof, any will do.

I love NY but at this point I want to leave so badly. All this packing...ugh.

I think we need some happy vibes and some prayers.

Happy Thanksgiving!

2005-11-23T18:58:00.000-05:00

Happy holidays to everyone. I have a cornucopia of things to be grateful for this year. It's been a...difficult...year, but I feel blessed.

So thank YOU.

<3 Jess

I'll Swim Backwards

2005-11-22T09:17:00.000-05:00

I spent my Sunday night watching IQ さぷり. I wish I could find a website about it to link you guys but the only one I found is 100% japanese (kanji) so that wouldn't work :p

IQ Sapuri is a gameshow, basically. A cool, challenging, IQ gameshow where you have to solve puzzles. To be honest, I don't even know what the prize is. I just really like the games (plus it helps me get used to Japanese). I've been trying to watch the FujiSankei news hour as well. As you can see I am trying to get as much exposure as possble.

My Fushigi Yugi DVD is getting forever to get here. I want my blasted shoujo anime now, dammit! It's not mine really, it's Netflix heh. But since it's a series I hate waiting more than a day between discs. I get onfused and forget things easily.

Yes, this is a very Japanese post.

I really need to study Japanese more. Particularly Kanji and Hiragana. I'm getting along fine in Romanji but write something down and I...well I suck. For Christmas someone should get me a English/Japanese dictionary. *hint hint*

I'm sorry

2005-11-18T20:11:00.000-05:00

Apology moment: I'm really sorry for all I've done. To all of you. Or any of you. Same difference. I feel some kind of weird shift going on and I don't like it. I don't want it.
I wish things would never change.

Love Is Not Like Anything

2005-11-17T21:01:00.000-05:00

Especially A Fucking Knife - Bert McCracken

Excerpt From: 33 Degrees Left Of Center

Whenever I smell chalk I think of my father, Abrahm. He was a music teacher and a concert pianist, I remember that well. He took me to a class of his once, when I was 8, and I helped him draw the staff on the chalkboard, the white chalk smearing on my pink blouse. The students liked me, I remember. They thought it was adorable the way I talked; they were stunned when I took to the piano and played a concerto like they only wish they could play. It was our secret, my father and mine. My mother had eagerly replaced the piano she had destroyed with such hate and, on days she went out, he taught me how to play.

Despite what my mother would go on to tell the world, my father was a gentle man. He ate everything, he didn’t go to temple and he didn’t wear those little hats I never know what to call. He was not a devout Jewish man, but he was "Jewish enough" and was despised by Mother's family. Even now I wonder why he took such a challenge on, if he knew exactly what he was getting into. I believe with all my heart the family was nice to him before he married my mother. Then they turned on him when it became final…that’s just what those fucking savages would do.
It's just what I would do.

2005-11-16T08:15:00.000-05:00

My quest to completely disappear from some people's lives is not going as smoothly as I anticipated.
I certainly wish it were.

I have the horrible habit of "out of sight, out of mind." If I don't see you or speak to you constantly, I'm not going to miss you. I'm not going to allow myself to miss you. I won't even think about you. Don't take it personally, it's just the way I am. And to be honest I wouldn't change it if I could. Not now. It makes moving on so much easier for me and it makes me utterly unsympathetic towards your feelings (which is much better for my peace of mind).

This is a message for someone who never reads this space. And since they never read it, I suppose they'll never know. Perhaps it's better that way.

Jess <3

I need

2005-11-14T17:46:00.000-05:00

A money faerie to come down and give me some moola
Someone to tell me they think I'm wonderful
Someone to give me a hug
Someone to tell me everything's going to be okay
Someone who'll tell me a good way to get 9 animals to Florida
Someone to feed me right now

And most importantly

someone that loves me and tells me so every once in a while

Any volunteers?

Edited to Add:

The PMS Version

Money would be nice, I don't need to hear I'm wonderful (I'm not), I'll break your neck if you attempt to hug me, everything's not okay so don't lie, I still need someone to get my animals to FL, I haven't kept a meal down in days, and last but not least, there are certain people I do not want to hear "I Love You" from.

Hey Now...

2005-11-10T20:47:00.000-05:00

I had to give more blood to the vampires AKA the doctors. I'll know Tuesday what's up and when I can expect to order my coffin. Kidding...maybe :p

Oh and the closing for the co-op went through. So if all goes well I should be in FL by Christmas. :)

New story coming in the next week. Hopefully.

Yeah

2005-11-09T12:46:00.000-05:00

I'm insane. I just spent five minutes dancing to a song called "Once Upon Your Dead Body." I didn't write the song (Coheed and Cambria did) but I suppose this is one more example of how wonderfully morbid I am. Wonderfully morbid indeed. Speaking of morbid, my clinic just called to remind me I have another appointment tomorrow. If I die...well I don't have much to my name, so just have a free for all and grab what you want.

By the way, Anne Rice found Jesus. I wonder if Big J ever read her erotic novels. Did you think he did? Would they discuss her literary work in Heaven? Boy, I would love to be a fly on the wall during that conversation...
Has J read the Joy of Sex? Your Body and You? Did he ever think of the burning bush and laugh at the sexual connotations? Perhaps? Am I being blasphemous? Going to hell?

I think I am going to hell. See you there.

<3 Jess The Morbid Heathen (It has a nice ring to it!)

I take it back!

2005-11-04T12:15:00.000-05:00

I was done. I was going to delete this blog and then things got okay: Amazon had a sale on sex toys, the closing on the house is going through, and, dammit, I finally perfected my granny squares and purl skills.

All is right with the world...for now.

That's it.

2005-10-30T12:33:00.000-05:00

Put a fork in it, I'm done.

Swing Life Away by Rise Against

2005-10-25T19:17:00.000-04:00

Word.

I've been here so long, I think that it's time to move
The winter's so cold, summer's over too soon
Let's pack our bags and settle down where palm trees grow

I've got some friends, some that I hardly know
But we've had some times, I wouldn't trade for the world
We chase these days down with talks of the places that we will go

Snow Died

2005-10-22T15:29:00.000-04:00

Snow, my other little fishie, died today. :( I'm so depressed. I thought my life was supposed to get better after this horrible summer. WTF happened?

(Insert A Good Title Here)

2005-10-14T02:54:00.000-04:00

The creaking of the rocking chair could be heard for miles if everyone stopped and listened closely. It could be smelled too; a sharp, nurturing cedar scent that floated on down an empty dirt road some city official had jokingly named Harvard Boulevard. It was funny because everyone knew there was no Harvard in the sleepy town and barely any streets (let alone boulevards). Still, they had the man and his chair and that was something. They did not wonder why he sat there day after day, nor did they wonder why he was alone. It was normal to them and almost expected of the quiet man. After all, what else is there for him to do? No, the real mystery was the cedar. It was not a tree that grew in the area and barely had they seen a chair made out of cedar in the first place. "Is cedar strong enough for a rocking chair?" was often the topic at the church functions. There was much debate. There were many jokes. There were even concerned women who promised to go up to the lone, isolated Mackey house and bring the man some pies (of course they never did). Every Sunday, Jack, the butcher, would laugh, smack his mighty hand on the nearest pew and say "That old Pete's gunna fall right off that thing one day. He'll be hollerin' then!"

Like clockwork, every Sunday the booming laughs of his neighbours traveled right up the dirt road and woke up that tired Pete. "Emma?" he whispered. He strained his ears to hear but only the faint noises of the church social drifted near his home. He sighed, slipped off his cap, scratched his head. He took the time to exam the wrinkles on his hands. "I was dreaming of you again, sweetheart." And indeed he was. He dreamt the ocean had grown an arm that reached to him from the closest sea and pulled him into its waters. He could not breathe, he could not swim, but as he sank the water turned into the sky and he was falling. Pete could not choke out a cry for help. Who could help him then anyhow? "How do you stop a 10,000 foot fall?" He pondered out loud. "Likewise, how do you come up for air from so deep down? And is that how she felt...?" He stopped himself and got up on shaky legs. A cool breeze passed. It flapped around the edges of his jacket, parted his gray hair, embraced him.
"Hello!" came a cheerful greeting. Pete strained his eyes and searched his front lawn. Betsy was standing near the mailbox in a faded yellow dress, wearing a smile that shone like a lighthouse. Pete smirked at her. "What are you doing here tonight?" he asked.
"There's a cake cooling on the kitchen window for ya. Go on and serve yerself, I'll join you in the kitchen later."
Pete cocked his head to the side. "A cake, you say?" Did he dare...? He turned around and there was nothing cooling on the kitchen window. When he turned back to Betsy she was leaning against the porch railing, looking out towards the steeple of the church. She had climbed the creaky front steps but there had been no sound at all.
"What are you doing here tonight?" Pete asked again.
"You have to let her go..."
The tired man shook his head, coughed, and placed a trembling hand against his chest.
"You look like an old man, Pete."
"I am an old man."
"You're 35 years old, Pete."
He wanted her to go away then. She didn't understand. "I think I'm going to take a walk, Bet."
Betsy looked beyond him and laughed. "Lord, do you remember when you made that?" She was looking at the cedar chair.
"Yes. You bring it up everytime you visit, honey."
"Emma was so happy. You made it too big for her, like a throne."
"That was the idea."
"Even went out and got special wood so it smelled like the toy chest she loved so much."
"She was a princess."
"It took me an hour of shaking my finger at her before she'd get off it to go to bed."
"She was my princess."
Betsy smiled and shook her head. "You spoiled her rotten, Pete." A sigh."I didn't mean to leave you so soon."
"I'm tired of talking about that."
Betsy crossed her legs at the ankle and leaned back on her elbows.
"Bet...Have you seen her? Have you seen our baby?"
"I'm sorry but no. I can't say that I have."
It took a lot for tired Pete to hold back his tears. He choked for a while, smacked his hands against his chest. "I think I'm going to take that walk now, Bet."
"Of course, darling. I'll go do the dishes in the meanwhile." Betsy walked through the front door and Pete didn't have to look back to know she was gone again.
He took his walk then. He settled down into the cedar chair and rocked back and forth. After a while he took a small step and then he was off like a rocket. he was sanding down the rocking chair. He was walking Emma to preschool. He was pacing in the hospital delivery room. He was watching Betsy walk down the aisle. The bad ones came too; The last time he saw Emma on that boat and how she never came back. The last time he saw Betsy smile at him and how sad of a smile it was. But Pete pushed those memories way back and locked them away for now. He wouldn't let the cedar remind him of that. Not yet.

Down Harvard Boulevard, Jack and Delores Johnson sat on their front porch drinking lemonade.
"You know we've got a bet going on to see when he falls on his ass." Jack said. "I hope it happens soon. I get $250 from the boys if it happens before next year!"
Delores peered over her husband's head to make out the Mackey house. There was Pete's silhouette rocking back and forth against the horizon. Her guilty concious kicked in and the woman clicked her tongue.
"Now, Jack, stop that. You know poor Pete has been through a lot."
"It's been five years, Delores, and the man does nothing but sit in that chair." They both turned to look.
"Yes...well...I think I'll bake him a pie."
"You do that then."
They both knew damn well she wouldn't.

Another one of those unedited, "let it all out" kind of stories. So excuse it's general crappiness. I have no idea where I was (or am) going with this.

I went to the ER

2005-10-11T19:07:00.000-04:00

I got back recently. I feel...ugh. Anyway, hi. I'll post something worth reading in a few days.

xoxo,
Jess

Ugh

2005-10-06T16:52:00.000-04:00

I feel like shit. I'll probably be offline all weekend and maybe next week too. If you want to talk to me, feel free to call or something. All of you should have my number...

and start bloody commenting when I come back. *narrows eyes* You know who you are....

I'm an INFJ

2005-10-05T08:29:00.000-04:00

I took the Meyers-Briggs test at Human Metrics and this is what I got:

Introverted	Intuitive	Feeling	Judging
Strength of the preferences %
11	62	62	1

Highly ethical in their actions, Idealists hold themselves to a strict standard of personal integrity. They must be true to themselves and to others, and they can be quite hard on themselves when they are dishonest, or when they are false or insincere. More often, however, Idealists *are the very soul of kindness. Particularly in their personal relationships, Idealists are without question filled with love and good will. They believe in giving of themselves to help others; they cherish a few warm, sensitive friendships; they strive for a special rapport with their children; and in marriage they wish to find a "soulmate," someone with whom they can bond emotionally and spiritually, sharing their deepest feelings and their complex inner worlds.

INFJs are distinguished by both their complexity of character and the unusual range and depth of their talents. Strongly humanitarian in outlook, INFJs tend to be idealists, and because of their J preference for closure and completion, they are generally "doers" as well as dreamers. This rare combination of vision and practicality often results in INFJs taking a disproportionate amount of responsibility in the various causes to which so many of them seem to be drawn.

INFJs are deeply concerned about their relations with individuals as well as the state of humanity at large. They are, in fact, sometimes mistaken for extroverts because they appear so outgoing and are so genuinely interested in people -- a product of the Feeling function they most readily show to the world. On the contrary, INFJs are true introverts, who can only be emotionally intimate and fulfilled with a chosen few from among their long-term friends, family, or obvious "soul mates." While instinctively courting the personal and organizational demands continually made upon them by others, at intervals INFJs will suddenly withdraw into themselves, sometimes shutting out even their intimates. This apparent paradox is a necessary escape valve for them, providing both time to rebuild their depleted resources and a filter to prevent the emotional overload to which they are so susceptible as inherent "givers." As a pattern of behavior, it is perhaps the most confusing aspect of the enigmatic INFJ character to outsiders, and hence the most often misunderstood -- particularly by those who have little experience with this rare type.

*HA! Normally I'd say "oh, that's a load of crap" but I took two tests (took one twice) and I am definitely an INFJ type. Who knew...

Hold Me Down - Posted For Marisol

2005-10-04T12:07:00.000-04:00

Motion City Soundtrack - Hold Me Down

I found a letter that said:

I'm sorry that you were asleep when I wrote these words down
You'd think I'd ought to be used to that by now.
Save for a few of those late night episodes,
Missed opportunities, and "I Don't Cares,"
There's not a lot that I feel obliged to share or talk about.

I'll have my brother stop by this Saturday to pick up my things,
Just make sure you're not there.
This may sound bad, and don't take it the wrong way..
I love you, however, you hold me down.

You're the echoes of my everything,
You're the emptiness the whole world sings at night.
You're the laziness of afternoon,
You're the reason why I burst and why I bloom..
How will I break the news to you?

Cancel our dinner with Max and Coraline,
feed Jacky's gerbil and try to stay clean.
We'll talk it over after I've had some time alone to sort it out.
You hold me down

You're the echoes of my everything,
You're the emptiness the whole world sings at night.
You're the laziness of afternoon,
You're the reason why I burst and why I bloomed..
You're the leaky sink of sentiment,
You're the failed attempts I never could forget.
You're the metaphors I can't create to comprehend this curse that I call love..
How will I break the news to you?

I will make a MCS fan out of you Soli...oh yes I will.

Crappy picture of a smile!

2005-10-01T20:31:00.000-04:00

In my moving mess I could not find my pictures to scan. So I said fuck it and took a picture of myself...while I was sick.

I don't think a good picture of me will ever truly exist...but this one's not so bad. I happened to get hit on a lot today too so I obviously did not look like total crap,

Alright enough whining. Here's the damn picture:

PS: This photo's file name is Phot69. I had a very Beavis and Butthead moment when I realized that. Heh heh.

The Cricket Has Left The Building

2005-09-28T14:37:00.000-04:00

My inner monolouge has gone on vacation. In it's absence my family and friends have had to deal with my sometimes cruel, seethingly honest commentary on life. For some reason it has made me more popular in certain online forums as people "didn't know I had it in me." I'll say it now and say it loud: I have always been a bitch. I just don't bother acting like one 24/7. I have manners, reserve, genuine smiles like anyone else. All in all I think I am a very sweet girl. But in addition to all the normal thoughts and dispositions a person has, I have a little inner me who says the things the real Jess wouldn't say (Because the real Jess...erm, I mean I don't like stirring the pot too much).

In fact, I now know this inner me is a gay little man with a better fashion sense than I could ever dream of. Well, this past Sunday he stood up tall in his Nine West boots, straighted his Gucci jacket, dusted off his "vintage" $75 T-shirt and shared with me some beautiful words of wisdom.
He said, "Oh no, girlfriend! *snaps fingers* I am so over your way of thinking. You need to vent some of this shit, say it out loud. Keeping it in isn't good for your chi, baby girl. You know what? I'm going to a spa, maybe get a mani/pedi...you go and let some things out, mmkay? Oh and honey, would it kill you to wear a little pink every now and then? I mean, daaaaamn."

I couldn't have said it better myself.

Church Sign

2005-09-27T14:01:00.000-04:00

I went to a Sacred Heart Church and couldn't resist making this sign:

The Missing

2005-09-25T23:24:00.000-04:00

This is not a poem, this is a message.

To an old friendship that has died I will say this:
I realize now that you were right when you called us moons
You were right when you said I was easily slipping away

If what we had was a beautiful star, it went out,
trailed across the farthest regions to where I had drifted
I could see it, try to save it, try to catch it in my fingers and burn myself with it's last dying flame

Like all stars, by the time I saw us burn with one last goodbye, it had happened a hundred years in the past
And we were already a speck of dust in the stratosphere, a missing space in the constellations

So to an old friendship that died, I will say this:
If you're out there and still somewhere in the night sky, I'm sorry I let you pass me by

The Original Alice

2005-09-22T11:50:00.000-04:00

Someone sent me this link and I think some of you would enjoy it:

Scans of the original Alice in Wonderland manuscript with Carroll's original illustrations:

http://www.bl.uk/onlinegallery/ttp/ttpbooks.html

Wisdom From Brand New

2005-09-22T11:17:00.000-04:00

"No more songs about you. After this one I am done. You're gone."

*nods* I should follow that advice.

Currently

2005-09-18T20:40:00.000-04:00

I feel as if I have a black home in me that stretches from the back of my throat down just past my heart. I don't know what it is.

Overall

2005-09-14T23:23:00.000-04:00

Overall, life is funny. People are funny. I've spent a good amount of my nineteen years thinking far too much and living far too little. What I've realized is that I've learned so much more by living. What I've realized is that who you are, who you really are, is what makes the difference. It changes everything; your whole outlook, your friends, your career, your mode of transportation even. So I'm going to write something here for myself for when I spend another lonely night thinking "What am I doing?" Mostly this is a question just for me, a hidden request no one else would understand.

I comprehend the living part and the thinking part of my life. To have them work together and make me whole I have to ask myself

Jess, Is this who you want to be?

I hope the answer will be yes someday. Until then, I'll just keep on growing.

The Longest Survey In The World

2005-09-13T12:28:00.000-04:00

x.Basics

Full Name: Jessica Elise Soto Silfa

Nicknames: Jess

Gender: Undecided

Birth date: 01/24

Height: 5'3

Hair color: *smirks* Naturally black, currently black, was at one point (_insert random colour here_)

Eye color: Brown

Hometown: NYC

Hobbies: Writing, Scrapbooking, Crocheting, Hitting on Chicks...the usual

Dream Car: Blah.

Type of car you drive now: N/A

Current Boyfriend/Girlfriend: Pfft.

Words or phrases you overuse: See above.

Toothpaste: Whatever.

Piercing or tattoos: 4 piercings in ear, no tattoos yet

Pets: 10 - Jonah, Jacob, Jigglypuff, Sal, Poco, Gizmo, Snow, Payne, Panic, Mayin

x.Favorites

Favorite Quote:

Favorite Number: 8

Favorite Color: Anything goes.

Favorite Salad Dressing: Ceasar, I guess.

Favorite Holiday: Halloween + Christmas

Favorite Perfume/Cologne: CK One

Favorite Song at the moment: Portions for Foxes - Rilo Kiley

Favorite Website: This one, dammit. :p

Least Favorite Subject in School: Trigonometry

Favorite Sport to Watch: Soccer

Favorite town to chill in: NYC

Favorite Ice Cream: Rocky Road

Favorite Soft Drink: Ginger Ale

Favorite Type of Music: Rock/Punk

Favorite Food: Rice and Beans, Pasta, Oranges (no, not all together.)

Favorite 4 digit number: 8824

Favorite place to shop: Target

x.This Or That

Windows/Macintosh/Unix: Windows
Croutons/Bacon Bits: Croutons
Adidas/Nike: Adidas
Grey/Gray: Grey
Left/Right: Left
Up/Down: Down
Chocolate/Vanilla: Chocolate
PB/J: Neither
Anvelope/Envelope: Envelope...you idiot.
Tomahto/Tomayto: Toh-mah-te.
Ruf/Roof: Roof
Metal/Jazz: Metal!
Rock/Rap: Rock!
RB/Country: Neither
Rain/Snow: Rain
Sun/Clouds: Sun
Tan/Burnt: Tan
Undercooked/Overcooked: Overcooked
Dance in the rain/Walk in the snow: Dance in the rain
Smilies /No Smilies: Smilies. :p
Pants/No pants: Jeans
Hot pink nail polish/Black nail polish: I wear both every single day and have done so for over a year.
Polka dots/Stripes: Stripes
Solid/Tie dye: Tie Dye
Homecoming/Prom: Give me a rave or a pit instead
Shoes/Barefoot: Barefoot
Sneakers/Flip flops: Sneakers
Computer/Phone: Computer
Cursive/Print: I blend the two.
Sand/Sidewalk: Sidewalk
Beach/Boardwalk: Boardwalk
Quiet/Noise: Noise
Black/White: Black
Pink/Red: Pink
Grey/Tan: Grey
Hotttnesss/Awesomeness: Awesomeness
Made up words/Made up songs:Made up songs
Random/Planned: Randomly planned

x. Would You Rather…

1. Would you rather be a professional basketball player or a rapper? Pro basketball player

2. Would you rather spend life in prison, or choose the death sentence? I'd take the death sentence right now so lets go with option B.

3. Would you rather tell someone your worst secret or have a terrible stomachache all day for one day? Telling someone my worst secret would give me a tummy ache for a week so, once more, let's go with option B.

x. What If…

1. If your favorite baseball team were secretly comprised entirely of aliens, and only you knew, would you still root for them? Fuck yes. Go martians!!

2. You were the only life left on earth? I'd try my best to make it all well and hope to die peacefully.

3. You were disconnected from the internet for 3 months?! My life might be better for it

4. You ran out of food and only had meat left? (like for good) I suppose I'd die soon enough (not just because I'm a vegetarian but because meat can't possibly support you alone for that long).

5. Some one said…”Here’s a million dollars... if you eat some meat!”? "There's a million dollars...shove it up your ass."

x. Have You Ever

1. Said anything to someone after he or she says "Your Welcome" to your "Thank You"? "Have a nice day."

2. Rejected someone on account of his or her lack of physical attractiveness? I don't think so.

3. Pulled an all-nighter? If so, what’s your record? I've pulled all weekers.

4. Gone skinny dipping? Nah.

5. Been convicted of a crime?: Nope.

6. Hurt yourself? Yes.

7. Been in love? I wouldn't know love if it smacked me on the head and did the macarena for me

8. Done drugs? Absolutely not!

9. Had surgery? I don't think so.

10. Played strip poker? Nope.

11. Been on stage? Yes

12. Killed someone? Not in this lifetime.

13. Made out with a stranger? No

14. Had sex with a stranger? Of course not!

15. Been on TV or Radio? Yeah.

16. Broken the law? Yep.

17. Met a famous person? *thinks* Not really.

18. Been in a mosh-pit? Hell yes.

x. Do you…?

1. Get along with your parents? Occasionally. Really the question is whether they get along with me.

2. Smoke? If so, what: Nothing.

3. Make fun of people? In a fun way. Laugh with them, not at them.

4. Sleep with one pillow or two? Nine

5. Drive? Not yet.

6. Like to drive fast? I like to be in the passenger side of a fast car.

7. Pray? No.

8. Read the newspaper? Yes.

9. Where make-up? Oh for the love of Pete...it's "wear" and yes I do. Teal eyeliner: don't leave home without it.

x. Beliefs…

1. Believe in life on other planets? Yes. I would feel miserable if there weren't.

2. Miracles?

3. Astrology?

4. Magic?

5. God?

6. Satan?

For the above: I believe there are things in this life which cannot be defined in any satisfactory way. "Satan, magic, miracles" and so on are just the names we have given them. To me, these forces have no name...but I do believe they exist I just don't know to what extent.

7. Santa? Yes and I think he's an evil evil little gnome. Like your mother.

8. Ghosts? Yep.

9. Luck? Eh.

10. Love at first sight? Pfft.

11. Yin and Yang? There must always be some sort of natural balance...otherwise, why would black and white look so great together?!

12. Witches? Not in the conventional, pointy-hat-and-warts way

13. Easter bunny? No. He's a figment of my imagination.

14. Believe it's possible to remain faithful forever? Faithful as in monogamous? Yes. Faithful as in religion? Mayhaps. But...it seems like your religion would be stronger if you questioned it at least once.

15. Believe there's a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow? Gold covered chocolate, yes.

16. Do you wish on stars? In my darkest of days, yes.

x. Last Time You…

1.Smiled? Yesterday... I think.

2. Laughed? Yesterday...I think.

3. Stole something? Yesterday...I...no wait! I haven't stolen anything in years/

4. Bought something? Last weekend.

5. Cried? Last night.

6. Danced? Three days ago.

7. Were sarcastic? Yesterday.

8. Hugged someone? ....Oh jesus christ...I don't remember.

9.Talked to an ex? Yesterday. And no he is not the reason I was crying.

10. Talked on the phone? Yesterday.

11. Watched TV? A few hours ago.

12. Said “I love you.”? Yesterday to my mom.

13. Drank? 5 years ago or so.

14. Got Drunk? 5 years ago or so.

x. The Other Randomnishness

1. Does age matter when it comes to dating? No.

2. Any drink habbits? Who wrote this sentence??? No I do not have a drinking habit although I was a heavy drinker from 12-14.

3. What’s the greatest experience in your lifetime? As of now....I don't know.

4. Why are you here on Earth? To be here for someone else and help them get from point A to point B. I don't know who, I don't know when, but that's all I'm here for.

5. Who means the most to you? I deeply care about everyone in my life so it's hard to choose. Kyle though. Yeah, my little brother takes the cake.

6. Best thing life has taught you? That it only feels too short when your random, uncontrollable mortality is on your mind. That it really is too short and people should live for today every day of their lives.

7. What do you look for in the opposite sex? A sense of companionship. I need someone that won't let me pull away (because I'm apt to do so).

8. What's your bedtime? Whenever.

9. What is the most romantic thing that ever happened to you? *sigh* I've never had anything romantic happen. I doubt anyone cares enough to put any effort in romance with me.

10. Would you laugh if your worst enemy bumped his head on a low wall? I might. It depends if they were hurt or not.

11. Would you say that you are better at multi-tasking than most people? Perhaps.

12. Would you say that you procrastinate more than most people? Perhaps.

13. What is your least favorite color? Yellow

14. Did you ever see a llama kiss a llama on the llama? You're fucking nuts, Sam.

15. Was it my destiny to ask you this question? No.

16. What is the worst curse word you have ever called someone? The worst insults are never just pure swear words. They're most likely common, plain words linked together to spill a dark secret, divulge a hidden love, or say exactly the last thing you ever needed to hear. That stings much more than "you're an asshole."

17. Who was your favorite Civil War general? General Bite Me.

18. Are you bothered by grammatical errors in conversation? Yes. But when I am flustered or nervous (and I always am, esp on the phone) I commit them often myself.

19. Would you do something illegal to help your best friend? Depends. I wouldn't kill someone, or jeopardize someone else's health. But if I had to steal band-aids from Rite Aid for her...then yeah.

Yes I edited this survey. The errors were killing me hahaha.

The World At Large - Modest Mouse

2005-09-12T22:41:00.000-04:00

Bolded lines are the ones I relate to the most.

Ice-age heat wave, can't complain.
If the world's at large, why should I remain?
Walked away to another plan.
Gonna find another place, maybe one I can stand.
I move on to another day,
to a whole new town with a whole new way.
Went to the porch to have a thought.
Got to the door and again, I couldn't stop.
You don't know where and you don't know when.
But you still got your words and you got your friends.
Walk along to another day.
Work a little harder, work another way.

Well uh-uh baby I ain't got no plan.
We'll float on maybe would you understand?
Gonna float on maybe would you understand?
Well float on maybe would you understand?

The days get shorter and the nights get cold.
I like the autumn but this place is getting old.
I pack up my belongings and I head for the coast.
It might not be a lot but I feel like I'm making the most.
The days get longer and the nights smell green.
I guess it's not surprising but it's spring and I should leave.

I like songs about drifters - books about the same.
They both seem to make me feel a little less insane.
Walked on off to another spot.
I still haven't gotten anywhere that I want.
Did I want love? Did I need to know?
Why does it always feel like I'm caught in an undertow?

The moths beat themselves to death against the lights.
Adding their breeze to the summer nights.
Outside, water like air was great.
I didn't know what I had that day.
Walk a little farther to another plan.
You said that you did, but you didn't understand.

I know that starting over is not what life's about.
But my thoughts were so loud I couldn't hear my mouth.
My thoughts were so loud I couldn't hear my mouth.
My thoughts were so loud.

Rough Draft Prequel to Frambuesas

2005-09-11T20:02:00.000-04:00

Another rough draft I need to fix in the future. Frambuesas is one of the earliest stories I posted on here. This is the prequel...sorta.

She saw the million dollar question sleeping behind his lips. He began to ask it many times and the form would always catch her off guard. But one day, a bad day, she knew it was coming. When he asked her if their love was palpable, if it was worth him staying, she had an answer.
Ana Maria grabbed the dullest knife and began dully slicing away at her chest. He reached up to stop her but she pulled away. "No, no please. You want to see it so badly, let me show you." He ran up to call 911 and she dug harder. "Please don't let them show up in time, please." He ran back into the living room, the phone at his side. She ignored him completely. The room spun on it's axis and the butter knife fell on the floor. Ana looked down and smirked at the stained berber carpet. He will not be pleased at all, she thought.
"Do you see this?" She reached her nails into the wounds and gave a tiny squeeze. He gagged at the noise, the sight, the smell and ran into the bathroom. "How can you ask me if I love you? Am I that cold?" At that moment she felt cold. She felt ice creeping up from her fingertips save the small streak of fire that burned it's way up her left arm. Her knees hit the ground first and then her forehead. Panic rose from her gut. "I don't want to die anymore. I take it back. Help me..." Her lips wouldn't form the words and soon she blacked out.

When she woke, it was two weeks later. Her mother, Marta, was standing over her, tears running down her face. "Nena...aye mi nena...Are you stupid!?" She held her hand high and brought it down on her daughter's face. A trio of orderlies carried Marta out while the rest of the family trailed behind with loud voices, shouts, tears and cheer. Ana closed her eyes for a moment and sighed. When she opened them only abuela remained in the corner. Without a word the elderly woman got up and reached for a lone vase on the hospital dresser. A small card was attached to it and it fell onto Ana's lap. She could not move and abuela, who could not read English, had to hold it in front of Ana's face.
"...I hope you understand." She didn't have to read anymore. She knew who it was from and she knew what it said.
"Comprendes?" Abuela said. Silence. "Mija, comprendes?" She asked again.
"Si. I understand."
Nothing else was said.

Rebirth - Rough Draft

2005-09-08T21:44:00.000-04:00

My mother says her womb was too warm and for that reason I came into the world screaming and clawing. It seemed I was begging to be let back in. Even now, in my thirties, I dream of red and pink flesh enveloping me. Shadows and muted voices wash over my head and I sigh...Then I wake and I am cold again. It haunts me every night.
When I was fifteen I entered the womb again. I was running from my mother, crying in the selfish way all teenagers do, when I slipped and fell head first into our swimming pool. It was a hot August day and the water was warm. I opened my eyes and saw the same chalky shade of blue all around me. Shadows moved above me, the same voice from my dreams. "Honey..." The same voice in my dream. The sing-song voice I now recognize as my mother's. "Honey..." It came again and it wouldn't stop.
I swim every morning before I face life. My pool was painted shades of red and the water was constantly kept warm. With every stroke I am working my way back in the comfort of my mother. With each stroke I chant, revitalize, reinvigorate, reanalyze myself. "A divorce, a child who hates me, a dog that refuses to be house broken, a mortgage to pay...They don't exist." 1 Lap. "I was the perfect wife, wasn't I? I paid enough attention, I gave him love." 2 Laps. "Jeremy just has to learn Mommy needs her 'Me' time and that she's busy with work. He'll be fine." 3 Laps. "That fuckin' dog."
By the tenth lap I've gone back 10 years. "I've got my degree, now what? What do I do now?" I'm growing down quickly. "What if I didn't choose the right college? How can I afford it all?" At 20 laps I'm smacking the water with my fists. "Why did daddy leave, mom? What did you do?" I choose to dive down at this time, wedge myself into a corner of the pool and stop. I just stop everything. I stay there for as long as I can, not thinking about anything, and press my closed fists against my chest, fold my legs into myself. I am nothing and this is what I crave.
When I've run out of air I burst up and out of the water. The constant chill is so harsh, I cry without reserve. The tears splash water to water, my mouth is open in agony. No one is there to wrap me up and hand me over to unconditional love.
I climb the ladder back to the world hesitantly; my body feels like a dead weight. There, on the edge of the pool, I see myself as I do every morning; Fifteen, lonely, happy, scared, asking the same question with her eyes. This time, she asks, will I run with her? She doesn't wait for my answer and I never catch her in time.

Ugh, so unsatisfying. This is just a very rough draft. Basically, I opened blogger and typed it straight out of my head. I didn't even know I was going to write this; I came to my blog to whine some more about love. Go figure. Look for the revised, better version in the future.

Sniff

2005-09-08T12:31:00.000-04:00

Snapple, my fish, died this morning. I've been upset and depressed all day. I know a lot of people must be thinking "It's just a fish" but...whatever. I've had him six years and I loved him. My poor Snapple...

Alkaline Trio

2005-09-08T01:01:00.000-04:00

Every time I hear this song I think it's about me. I must have dated an Alk3 band member in a former life.

"Queen Of Pain"

There's a fire forming, not too far from here
Along the east coast maybe, it resides in you, my dear
Worn out on our courtesy, we've made our curtain calls
Like vampire bats deprived of blood, into the New York City night we crawl

And you've got a funny way of showing off your bathroom surgery
You said you were just cooling down from plans of leaving me
There's something I should tell you, for we may not have much time
I've never met arms like yours

The stars at night are big and bright
Deep in your eyes, Miss Vincent
You told me once I made you smile
But we both know damn well I didn't
I'm not much of a jester, but I'd test poisoned food for you
Your majesty, you're royal blue
I'm loyalty, my king of pain

There's a hard rain falling, flooding your attic, it's clear
Can't put out the fire that resides in you, my dear
There's something I should tell you, for we may not have much time
I've never seen scars like yours

The stars at night are big and bright
Deep in your eyes, Miss Vincent
You told me once I made you smile
But we both know damn well I didn't
I'm not much of a jester, but I'd test poisoned food for you
Your majesty, you're royal blue
I'm loyalty, my king of pain

The stars at night are big and bright
Deep in your eyes, Miss Vincent
You told me once I made you smile
But we both know damn well I didn't
I'm not much of a jester, but I'd test poisoned food for you
Your majesty, you're royal blue
I'm loyalty, my king of pain

One Of My Favourite Songs

2005-09-05T17:00:00.000-04:00

Brand New - The Quiet Things That No One Ever Knows

We saw the western coast
I saw the hospital
Nursed the shoreline like a wound
Reports of lover's tryst
Were neither clear nor descript
We kept it safe and slow
The quiet things that no one ever knows

So keep the blood in your head
And keep your feet on the ground
If today's the day it gets tired
Today's the day we drop out
Gave up my body and bed
All for an empty hotel
Wasting words on lower cases and capitals

I contemplate the day we wed
Your friends are boring me to death
Your veil is ruined in the rain
By then it's you I can do without
There's nothing new to talk about
And though our kids are blessed
Their parents let them shoulder all the blame

So keep the blood in your head
And keep your feet on the ground
If today's the day it gets tired
Today's the day we drop out
Gave up my body and bed
All for an empty hotel
Wasting words on lower cases and capitals

I lie for only you
And I lie well...
Hallelu...

So keep the blood in your head
And keep your feet on the ground
Today's the day it gets tired
Today's the day we drop out
Gave up my body and bed
All for an empty hotel
Wasting words on lower cases and capitals

...

2005-09-04T01:47:00.000-04:00

Just when I think I couldn't get lonelier, I reach a new low. It's 1:46 in the morning and I can't get to sleep. I'd make a list of complaints, wants and needs but I can't think of anything. I know what I want...I just wish I didn't want it.

The Quiet State of Crying

2005-09-01T10:44:00.000-04:00

I am frantic this morning, and sullen, and calm, too;
The vegetable peeler was found hidden in my drawer
And an ancient potato was found behind my desk
Suddenly I feel as old and absent as my grandmother

Who hid soda and her toothbrush in empty suitcases beneath her bed
At the thought, wrinkles shoot across my face and my skin becomes thin
How old am I? What's my name?
For a moment I can't remember

I look at my grandmother now and she stares at me gleefully from a photograph
"It might as well be a mirror," I think as I pat my pockets
Soon I chuckle, I gasp, I scream, I cry openly:
I found my keys in the kitchen sink but can no longer remember where I was going or why

2005-08-29T17:08:00.000-04:00

I'm not paid enough to be civil to idiots. Seriously.

The Spilling

2005-08-26T23:26:00.000-04:00

Sometimes my words stay stuck behind my teeth,
and they force themselves out but
they come out
like a hum,
come out like a choking,
gasping ,
horrible sound.
I'll keep "I love you" nestled safely
beneath
my tongue
...for now.

Coheed and Cambria Lyrics

2005-08-05T00:01:00.000-04:00

Coheed and Cambria - The Velorium Camper II: Backend of Forever

Rocked silent in a soft lullaby
panic stirred me awakened by a ringing phone in time
where and when would I see her?
Crazy were the words that scribbled out your mouth
I stuttered replacing your face to those words
where and when would I kill her?

I'll wish on this, I'll wish with this
I wish...to the bitter end of my day
Well, where were you?

So you had your turn and you made it work
Now I'm the laughing stock of your joke
Crazy as it may seem I cried for you when you
told me to date all of the things that made you end up in my life
And I'll believe anything I have no luck with girls

I overheard that you were unhappy too
Misleading trust into a relationship that makes no sense
Over and out Connecticut
But you had your back turned as you faded away
At the end of my day I found out
you weren't worth what I thought of you

Write this down in the diary you abuse
Can we make plans? Can I just get throught to you
Is this weird...do I scare her?
I'll wish on this, I'll wish with this
I wish...that you could share the love you'd shared with others, with me

So you had your turn and you made it work
Now I'm the laughing stock of your joke
Crazy as it may seem I cried for you when you
told me to date all of the things that made you end up in my life
And I'll believe anything I have no luck with girls

I overheard that you were unhappy too
Misleading trust into a relationship that makes no sense
Over and out Connecticut
But you had your back turned as you faded away
At the end of my day I found out
you weren't worth what I thought of you

And this isn't love so forever let it go...forever will it burn
This isn't love. There on the backend of forever I wish I would never hurt again...

Pfft.

2005-07-26T14:10:00.000-04:00

He started every morning with a stretch and a cry of "America! What a country!" My first thought was a response to him; What about America? Had my years of being here unfazed me? Were the subways second nature to me now? Did I not remember the way the sparse palm tree swayed in the wind, did I prefer the strong stance of the evergreens? Did I actually love the splash from the hydrants in the streets more than the caress of a waterfall? Did the murky Hudson River replace my crystal caribbean sea?
He made his way into the bathroom, mumbling, "America, america, aye america."
I couldn't agree more.

A Scandalous Picture of Myself

2005-07-23T20:45:00.000-04:00

Topless and everything! *gasps*

"What the fuck is mommy holding? *Flash* OMG! Should I be scared...?"

*grins*

Sometimes...

2005-07-22T19:23:00.000-04:00

The person who makes me feel like the most beautiful person in the world, also makes me feel like the ugliest.

"I could tell you stories, mija." She said this with resounding calm, a hint of a smirk lying in the corners of her lips. "Your uncle had an affair and then his wife had one too. The last kid isn't even his. The one that has AIDS though, that one's his. Your aunt was married to someone else at the time too. Eh, her kids all became drug dealers." She looked at me and spilled forth everything she had buried in her. They rolled across the room and came at me like waves.
"The stories...aye dios, I could write a book. You know your grandpa hit me once? Clocked me right on the lips. I was pregnant with Miguel then." I wanted to hold my hands over my ears and stop my family's dirty secrets from being brought to light. Somewhere our perfect family portrait was burning and all the smoke billowed directly into my lungs. "Mmm the things I could tell you." I've never ached for silence like I did that day.

2005-07-11T00:48:00.000-04:00

I've been crying for hours. That kinda of thing should make me want to write but it's not. Any moments of creativity are shallow and fleeting...Is that how love is supposed to be? I find myself in that kind of love often. I wish "shallow and fleeting" would also apply to my heartache but the truth is it just gets a tiny bit harder to overcome every time. I feel like I'm at the mouth of a cave and I'm giving away all my air to make one sound, one perfect, painful sound. And no one, not even my echo, is calling back.

And I just feel the need to add that none of this love talk is about a significant other. I haven't had one in years, haven't been hugged in months by anyone other than my brother. I'm craving physical contact so badly that a brush against my arm at this moment could cement itself into my long term memory. Longing...I wish I could just let it go.

With Every Breath I Wish, I Wish

2005-07-09T22:58:00.000-04:00

We are a thousand miles apart but oh
oh oh how I love you so
and I can't quite remember all the lines,
the shape of your face
but I remember your smile, the stars in your eyes
Call me a gazer; I get lost in them everytime

When the man that I love runs back to his wife

2005-07-06T20:39:00.000-04:00

When the man that I love runs back to his wife

When the man that I love runs back to his wife,
laps at her knees and adds to our strife,
I wish my heart would not break, that it would not cease to beat
That I were not alone in agony, waving a flag in defeat
Then sometimes I hear him, late in the night
whispering my name when he thinks it's alright
How quick my heart mends itself, starts beating with pride
at the thought he still thinks of me when he's at her side
Still, the beat has changed, the song doesn't quite play
Because the scars on my heart grow deeper each day
And these are the times I most contemplate my life
When the man that I love runs back to his wife

The Library

2005-06-15T14:05:00.000-04:00

My back was pressed against Faust, your lips were pressed against mine. We were quiet or trying to be as the librarian passed by without noticing us. "Shh shh!" she yelled in an attempt to have people whisper. "Shh shh" we whispered mocking her, trying to make murmurs out of shouts. When my back rubbed against Mephistopheles, the groan matched my own. Somewhere between page five and page eight your lips found all the right crevices to kiss.
"I love you. I do, I do," you said.
Shhhhh....

Eh.

2005-06-14T16:27:00.000-04:00

Depression makes it hard to write. I'm lonely as fuck so my creative juices are not flowing at the moment. A zine post should be coming soon.

<3 Jess

Cafe con Leche

2005-05-31T13:00:00.000-04:00

She was already sitting at the outside bistro when John spotted her. The neckline of her dress was cut low and when she crossed her legs you could see the edge of her slip. She was holding her drink gracefully, barely leaving fingerprints on the glass. Her foot tapped a random rhythm on the floor. John saw her outline from a block away and called to her as he got closer.
“Isabella!”
The woman smiled and got up to greet him. The hug they shared was stiff, hesitant. Isabella was not sure what to do; John was scared of what he might do. He pulled away first and held Isabella’s seat while she sat down. He sat opposite from her and folded his hands on the table.
“I took the liberty of ordering for us. I hope you don’t mind.”
“No, not at all.” John played with his tie. “So how have you been Issy?”
“Oh John, no one has called me that in years.” She smiled. “I’ve been alright.”
“How’s Pete?”
This caused a rise in tension, a prolonged silence.
“Pete is okay too.”
“Good.”
“How’s that girl?”
“Her name is Esperanza.”
“I never took you for someone who would date an ethnic person.”
“Her name is Esperanza,” John repeated it a little louder this time.
Isabelle cleared her throat and picked up her glass of wine. “I see.” She took a small sip. John licked his lips and placed his hands awkwardly on the table. Isabelle reached over and gave them a gentle squeeze. “I’ve missed you, John.” Her smile melted the coldness and tension between them.
John smiled back and held her hands in his. “I’ve missed you too, Issy.”

At that moment, somewhere in uptown Manhattan, a young woman holds her hand over her heart and begins to sob. “I’m losing him.” The bag she was holding falls on the stairs and tumbles a few steps. The potatoes she just bought dance in the hallway and hit her neighbours’ doors. One of the neighbours, Maria, peeks out. She's ready to yell at disorderly children or perhaps a lost drunk making his way up the stairs and gasps when she sees the young woman crumpled on the steps, fist pressed against her chest.
“Esperanza?” Maria grabs the girl, holds her close. “Esperanza, que es? What’s wrong?”
Esi sobs and struggles to speak. “He’s gone, I’m losing him, he’s gone…”

Weaving the Ends In

2005-05-04T22:01:00.000-04:00

Work in Progress story:

This blanket she made is all I have left of her. She died soon after Juan did of a broken mother's heart. Her room still smells likes her: a mixture of rosewater and rubbing alcohol. You can smell the burnt yarn too. Mom says the stitches flew from Rusia's hook so fast, smoke would bellow out of the windows. See that stitch? The blue one in the corner? That was the last one she made when she heard Juan had died. She cried so much, the hot tears ran like river down to her blanket. The hot river felted the wool and set the stitches "so that she would always remember." And how could she ever forget?

Astronaut

2005-05-04T21:46:00.000-04:00

In your eyes are the millions of stars I reach for
the feeling of weightlessness, the warmth I long for
I wanted your lips to ground me,
instead I felt your hands letting go
and I lost myself in you

My mouth spilled forth thousands of 3 word sentences;
"I love you, I need you, stay with me"
all slipping out as easy as it was to exhale
but like a fading hum your voice just wavered in the air
your lips motioned a pained "oh" and I knew
In that very moment the stars grew bright
and I knew the only kisses I'd give you were a million kisses goodbye

I'm baaaaaaack. <3

Wrapped In Fiber

2005-04-11T21:35:00.000-04:00

Wrapped In Fiber

It's my craft blog. Go for it, punks. I'll be updating this tomorrow, btw. Sorry for the delay. Life is...nuts. Also, I sent out a few emails to my email pen pals (that include you, Brandon :p) but my email is acting like a bitch and a half so if you haven't gotten an email from me, let me know and i'll beat up AO...uh...resend it. :)

Something Different

2005-03-13T03:06:00.000-05:00

Rosie's blog:

Formerly Rosie

Rosie O'Donnell rocks my socks.

Fertile

2005-03-10T06:36:00.000-05:00

Fertile

I had a dream I was bleeding underneath
My ovaries fell and burst, my pearls spilling on the ocean floor
The pearls turned
grew legs
walked away
Until I was an oyter licking my tongue at an empty shell
A bird nuzzling the twigs in her empty nest
and a woman watching her children grow and leave her at sea

Breña

2005-03-01T22:08:00.000-05:00

Excerpt from "Breña"

“Breña, you’re ten minutes late.” Breña nodded and looked into Ms. Lorry’s office. There in the dark room, behind Ms. Lorry, sitting in the uncomfortable chairs were Mr. And Mrs. Johnson. They smiled at the girl and turned to each other with a glow in their eyes. Breña smiled back, a smile so fake it would make anyone self-conscious. The Johnson’s didn’t notice.
These were the people she was supposed to impress. The potential parents who would whisk you away into happiness. Breña wasn’t rejected by a lot of families. The truth is she rejected them. That was the curse of knowing where you came from. Anyone would want to adopt her; any person aching for a child would love a child like Breña, but none of them were Janice. So she acted out, tried to run away. Right before anything was final she made sure the family knew she didn’t want them. Made them feel the way years of rejection had made her feel. This is what it’s like to want something so bad and get it pulled away from you.
Breña walked right up to Mrs. Johnson and shook her hand. She wanted to size her up, get these people’s real motive for wanting her in the family. Was it manual labour? Babysitting? Some weird collection of adolescent girls? She suddenly remembered Barbie and Barbara Johnson who were orphaned in a car crash. Perhaps these were their parents who faked their deaths just to get rid of them? Breña smiled to herself causing Ms. Lorry to give her an odd look.
“So Breña, this is Mr and Mrs. Johnson. I’m sure you remember them from the luncheon last week. They’re thinking of adopting you, sweetie.” The adults looked at each other with hopeful looks.
“No, thank you.” Breña felt smug as she began to turn around.
“Oh but Bren dear, they’ve already begun the paperwork.” Breña turned around quickly. The girls’ eyes began to look around rapidly and she started to shake her head. Mr. Johnson looked at his wife.
“Holly, you should talk to her.” Mrs. Johnson nodded and scooted closer to the child.
“Bren, Brennie. We know of your past. We know you reject all the people who want to take care of you. This is different honey. We’re good people and we’re going to take you home. We’ve got another little girl four years younger than you. You two will get along fine.” Breña looked up when they mentioned the other child for finally the family was put into a category. Built in babysitter.
“And,” Mr. Johnson added, “you can have all the toys you want. We’ve got good money.” Ms. Lorry nodded enthusiastically.
“It’s for the best, dear.”
“So Brennie, what do you say? Will you come home with me and Kevin?” Breña licked her lips and looked around the room. Seeing the adults smile she took a deep breath, leaned into Holly and bit her on the wrist. Holly wasn’t Janice either.

2005-03-01T21:14:00.000-05:00

Do you ever have goldfish memories? I do. Short fleeting memories of wavy rooms, like I’m seeing the world through a fishbowl. I remember things like looking up at a bright light, a new light bulb in the lamp. I remember things like walking into the kitchen to see my grandmother stacking pancakes on a plate. I remember the way a dropped cup rolled for a half circle and stopped at the edge of the television. These are lost memories for me; they have no time or place. I cannot age them, figure out where they belong. I have this sinking sensation, this drowning feeling when they come and an incredible urge to see things, really see things for the first time out of the fishbowl, out of the womb.

The feeling passes like smoke.

Not A Story

2005-02-19T16:16:00.000-05:00

Sorry for this update but I haven't been writing things because my stepgrandpa was diagnosed with cancer. He has 6 months to live. I apologize for any inconvenience this has caused my readers. The book has been delayed. This blog should still be updated but it could take more time between posts.

Gracias,

Jess <3

Sipping Hours

2005-02-15T09:44:00.000-05:00

I wrote this when I was 14 or so.

Sipping Hours

Walking down the street
Slowly waiting for life to catch up with me
faster than a cannonball it was
And before I knew it, it passed me by
Oh, I wish I had not been foolish to sit down and take a breath!
Now I search for shortcuts I may take
So that I can finally sit down
And sip away my unwanted hours like wine

Speaking to Oneself

2005-02-05T04:48:00.000-05:00

Speaking to Oneself

“Last night I had the weirdest memory bubble up to the surface of my mind. I was in my bed and the light was on. That was it. It was a five second memory that should have no significance yet it did.”
“What do you mean?”
“If you freeze the picture I could point out so many things! The memory is from our old house. My brother’s crib was in the corner. The walls were painted pink, even though I hated that colour. There were blue elephants dancing on the walls. As quickly as the lights turned on they went out and I remember nothing else. All this memory means to me is that it’s proof that I am aging and that I have always been alone.”
“Always?”
“Always.”

Youth

2005-01-29T17:31:00.000-05:00

Youth

Lila handed me a self help book the week before Christmas. I was filled with rage. She told me to read it so I could cope. I was filled with anger. She told me to read it so I could vent. I was hurt. She told me the book would teach me to forgive. In the end I lit that damn book on fire and used the sparks and enders to get me through a box of cigarettes. Lila told me the book was supposed to help me stop smoking. I threw a few angry words at her so she left, vowing to call the next day. Caller ID made sure I never answered any of her calls again and that friendship - like so many others - withered and charred as quickly as the thick pages of the book that was supposed to help it last.

Untitled

2005-01-16T04:25:00.000-05:00

Untitled

They called her nine lives.

There was no guess as to how many of those nine lives she had left and if you asked her, and we did, she’d say “I have enough.”

“So why are you still here, nueve vidas? You’re alone here now. Your husband has died. Your children have grown. You live alone, all alone. Don’t you miss your country?”

The neighbourhood creeps closer to the windows to hear her answer.

There is a pause.

Her dark hands hold her skinny cigarette to her lips. She breathes it in. She’s a shadow behind a colourful curtain and cracked glass. She says “This is good enough. Everything is familiar here.”

The cigarette smoke weaves through the cracked glass and into our faces. The neighbourhood creeps away, back into their own shadows. I stay. She opens her mouth to speak again and I wonder if she knows anyone is listening.

She says:
“ I still hear the river in my ears, I still imagine the coqui lulling me to sleep. But, I wonder, if I ever went back, would my body remember? Would my lungs breathe deep the fresh ocean air? Would my lips remember the sensation of fresh mango upon them? No. I stay here because I belong here now. I can‘t have it any other way.”

The whispers barely reach my ears. I start to walk away, taking clumsy backward steps, tripping over the cracks in the sidewalk. “How many lives do you have?” I ask her one last time.

“Only one. I lost eight of them fighting the memories away.”

The Pull

2005-01-11T16:46:00.000-05:00

The Pull

I had these visions of us in a place where
apologies flew between us like arrows, missing the mark
spite kept us bound in the bubble, catching us by surprise
love was evading, waning and dancing it's way just beyond our grasp
Yes, I had these visions of monsters in the world
and you and I were the ugliest of all

Apartment Dweller

2005-01-08T22:38:00.000-05:00

Apartment Dweller

There’s this red leather couch in our living room that we found in the basement. Well, it ain’t real leather. That’s good because I fucking hate real leather. I’m sitting on it now, trying to fan myself with a paper plate. My mother is somewhere in the apartment, probably making lunch although it’s only 10 o’clock in the morning. She always does that and I’m not sure why. I was curious about what my father was doing but now I hear him opening his bedroom door.

“Hey, Sandra, do me a favor and collect the rent from 3K,” my father yells. I nod. I get up. I fucking hate this place.

I suppose not many people know what it’s like to live in an apartment building. I’m not talkin’ Park Avenue bullshit; I mean down and dirty government housing. Where I live the hallways are littered with drug paraphernalia, the elevator always smells of piss, and you can always wake up to the wonderful sounds of old Mrs. Rodriguez cursing out her visiting nurse.

To be honest, I don’t mind collecting rent for my father. He doesn’t own the building or nothing, he just rents two apartments. One of the apartments we live in, the other he rents to the blanquitos for more money than it’s worth. He pays the rent and pockets the difference. Smart bastard. Oh, and he’s also the super but he does a crappy job and is constantly asking for help.

Anyway, like I said, I don’t mind collecting the rent for my father. It gives me a bit of insight into the lives of the dicks that live in this building. I suppose I don’t see anything new though. I think if you go to any project in New York City you get the same cookie cutter type of people. Here at 354 Jerome Avenue, we group the tenants into a few categories.

First you have the welfare folks. How do you know if a tenant is on welfare? If it’s female and has more than three kids, it’s on welfare. I do a lot of errands for this kind of folk simply because I feel sorry for them. Take Olga, for instance. She lives on the first floor in apartment 1J. Wanna know why she lives on the first floor? Because her five kids are constantly trying to throw themselves out the window. She can’t live any higher; She’d have 5 dead kids. In my opinion though, that wouldn’t be so bad. Of course I don’t tell her that.

Next you got your druggies and dealers. Those are real easy to tell apart. Druggies will sit on the cracked marble staircases shaking and muttering about how bad they need a hit. Plus, they’re always trying to get money from you. This one dude we have here is a real laugh. His name’s Martino. He’d sell you the shoes off his feet if he thought he’d get any money for them. I pass him by every morning on the way to the community college.

“Hey Sandy, you got a quarter?”

“No.”

“I’ll sell you something. I gots some marbles. You like marbles? I got a goldfish too. His name is Rocky. You like fish? He’s a good one; I can sell him to you. You can eat him.”

“I’m a vegetarian.”

“Then you eat plenty of fish! I’ll give him to ya for a dollar. A quarter. A nickel?”

I just put a shit eating grin on my face and walk on. I pity Martino, I really do. But I won’t tell him that.

The dealers though, thems are REAL easy to tell apart. Those guys live like kings in our shithole. They walk around with diamonds and gold necklaces, giving their wives and daughters the finest fur coats. I fucking hate fur and I fucking hate them but I don’t say nothing. No one says nothing, actually. Our friendly neighborhood drug dealer keeps the streets clean and doesn’t sell to the kids. Some would even say he’s an equal opportunity employer. I can list right off the top of my head all his apprentices and second in line chumps who’ll take over the business when he “retires”. I think of them all as the wannabe Hispanic mob. Of course I don’t tell them that.

The “everyone else” category is the hardest for me to describe without getting detailed and shit. I won’t do that. Those folks aren’t that interesting for me to waste time describing individually. Let me just group them together a bit for you.

Behind the first curtain you’ve got your old folks on social security. There’s a few of them in this building and they grate my nerves like hell. They think it’s their job to haggle the young’ins about how easy we got it. They’re on my fucking social security and they say we’ve got it easy? Most of them should die and free up the rent space. No, I’m serious.

Next, there are the dropouts who move like one conscious mind to their jobs at fast food joints. These are the future Olgas and Martinos of our building. Watching them is like watching a train wreck; I place bets with my mother on who will derail first.

Then there are Nothings. I love the Nothings most of all. They’re the people whose name you only know by their mailboxes. They’re the ones whose rent is always delivered on time. They leave early in the day and arrive late at night with no hint of where they work at. Sometimes I make up stories and say they’re in the Witness Protection Program or runnin’ from the law. Father says I’m crazy but that’s okay, he’s just got no imagination.

Some years go by without any Nothings knocking on our door and then boom! One day a Nothing arrives holding out their lease, security deposit and a check. My father smiles those days.

We have a female Nothing in our building right now. I don’t even know her name though. How weird is that?! I doubt anyone knows. She doesn’t get no mail or visitors; she left her name off the buzzer and her mailbox anyway. I want to ask her things but it’d be weird for me to pop into their home and ask questions. Of course I wouldn’t do that.

There’s one neighbor I wish I didn’t have to talk about but it just wouldn’t be right to leave him out. His name is Edward and he lives right next door to my apartment. He still lives with his parents too. That’d turn me off with most guys but Edward is special, real special. His mom says he was born different and I can tell.

Ed helps out my father a lot with the building. He mops the floors, vacuums the rugs, washes the windows, and so on and so forth. He’s Hispanic but I bet you wouldn’t be able to tell. He’s got the body of a football player – tall and masculine- but damn if he ain’t got the sweetest soul.

First time I met him I got a lecture. My father wanted me to do building chores and hired Ed to help me wash the windows. That was the first job Ed did for my father.

“Sandy, listen to me alright? That boy, Ed, is different. Es un poquito bobo. He doesn’t talk, he doesn’t smile. Even if you talk to him he won’t be listening. Don’t you make fun of him, okay?”

I shook my head quickly. My father always thought the worst of me. I wasn’t like the other girls in the building though. I wasn’t a future-teenage-mother in training so I didn’t see why they was always on my case. Well, fuck it. Some things you just can’t say to parents and no matter how much I promise things to mine, they’d smile and nod and still give me the same lecture the next day.

Anyway, I couldn’t help but stare at Ed as we washed those windows. I mimicked his movements, moved down when he did, kept up to his pace.

“Hello,” I murmured, not removing my gaze. He looked at me quickly and said nothing. We continued washing the windows for half an hour. By the time we reached the corner window, my insecurities were talking to each other in my head.

Fat Girl wondered why I would think he would ever talk me in the first place. Nappy Hair wondered why I thought I was special. Big Mouth told me to shut up. Smart girl quoted Shakespeare. Dumb girl said “Duh!”

If it hadn’t been for that corner window and the reflection it gave off, I wouldn’t have paid attention to the way his mouth moved. “Hello,” his reflection said.

“Hello again,” was my reply.

Some days Ed don’t talk at all to me but he smiles every time he sees me. When we do talk, it’s real good and we spend hours talking about them little things not many people would find interesting. One time his mom caught him whispering something to me and gave me the evil eye. I bet the bitch was just jealous he never spoke to her.

They fight a lot actually. Well, Ed doesn’t fight or yell but his parents do. His mother nags, his father nags; they fight over who nags Ed the most and why the other should stop. The only good thing is that I get to listen in and notice exactly when Ed is about to walk out on the fight. I’ll always be there in the hallway waiting to cheer him up. That’s the only reason I’m stalling having to go collect the rent from 3K. I can hear Ed’s parents fighting and I’ll leave in a second. I’m just waiting for him to…

“Oh and I suppose you know how to raise a retard better than I do?!” I hear his mother yelling.

I can't grab my keys fast enough. I run out the door and sure enough, there’s my Ed sitting on the first steps leaning against the railing. I can’t see his eyes but I can imagine how they must look. I remember the neighborhood kids taunting him years ago, back when he was younger than I am now.

“Hey look, it’s special Ed! Hi there, special Ed!” They would yell at him from their windows and doors. I didn’t know Ed at the time but I was always watching him.

I close my apartment door behind me and walk over to the stairway.

“Heya Ed! Let’s go hassle 3K for rent,” I say. I move past him without looking at his face. Ed’s mom has never called him a retard before. He’s hurt but I would be hurt if I didn’t see him smile at me. I start walking down the stairs and hold my breath. I let it out when I hear his steps behind me. We reach the apartment and I knock a few times on the door.

“You’re my muscle,” I say to Ed. He smiles. I could melt right then and there but 3K opens the door.

I never really took the time to learn 3K’s names. They’re some white couple who recently moved in. Apparently it was their first apartment together. They’re about my age but look like the type with silver spoons up their asses. My father called them suckers. Who else would pay as much money as they were for shitty housing?

The girlfriend looks me up and down as I ask for our payment.

“Rent? Okay, hold on.” She walks back into her apartment and I lean over to Ed.

“I bet her name is Nancy or Elizabeth or something like that.”

Ed nods and the girlfriend comes back with a personal check in her hand.

“You do take personal checks, right?” I nod while Ed looks over and smirks at me. Right there, in cute little script, is the girlfriend’s name. Elizabeth Anne Taylor. I hold back my laughter and nod.

“Um…okaythanksbye!” I grab Ed’s hand and run back up the stairs so fast I almost trip on my jeans. We are both laughing by the time we get back up to our floor. I put the check in my pocket and sigh. Ed sits down on the floor and I lie down next to him.

“You’re so mean to white people,” he says.

“I’m not mean, I just don’t get them.”

“It’s not that.”

“How would you know?”

“Your words jump.”

I sit up and wrinkle my eyebrows. I wait for him to continue. When he doesn’t, I sigh and ask him.

“What do you mean? How do my words jump?”

“When you’re here sometimes you talk real ghetto and you curse a lot. But sometimes Sandy… sometimes you speak real well, like someone who goes to college is s’posed to. When you talk to me about books or classic movies you’re different and it’s like you’re…you. For a moment it’s the real you. I don’t get why you feel like you have to act a certain way when you’re in our neighborhood.”

“Because.”

“Because?”

“I’m not one of them.”

“One of who?”

“I’m not some white kid, Ed. Why should I speak perfect grammar or dress like them or look like them or be like them?”

“No one’s asking you too-“

“Take a look around. Everyone’s asking us to. The media, our parents, the schools…” I lie back down and take deep breaths. I hear Ed smacking his lips, repeating everything we’ve said so he can understand it better.

“You know, I would understand if it were something natural. I’d understand if you were just an idiot who didn’t know no better. But you do and there’s no reason to…to…”

“Suppress my intelligence?” I ask, batting my eyelids.

“Yeah,” he says, chuckling.

Ed lies down next to me and reaches for my hand.

“Let’s get married.”

I blink and look over at him. He’s staring at the ceiling so I do too. My father can’t paint ceilings for shit and there are water stains forming shapes above our heads. I silently point out a horse and smile.

“Ah, cloud gazing for apartment dwellers,” I joke. Ed nods and points out a rabbit.

“So, should we get married?”

“Why do you want to?”

“Who else would I get married to? I don’t meet girls. You’re not interested in other guys. We’re going to end up alone anyway so why not end up together?”

Ed spoke those words clearly; it was unlike any other thing he had said. Is Ed trying to say he’s my one chance to settle down?

“I’m sorry, but I ain’t gonna marry you just because you think I’m good enough or because I’m what’s around. It shouldn’t work that way. What about love?”

“Our parents didn’t marry for love.”

“And are they happy?”

Ed stands up after a few minutes of silence. He smiles at me and reaches down to pat my head. He enters his apartment and closes the door without making sure I’m okay. Deep down I know this is the last time he’ll talk to me.

I go inside my apartment –my father’s apartment- and sit on the red leather couch. The paper plate is next to me and I pick it up to fan myself again. Was it only fifteen minutes ago I was sitting here? I’m thinking now of everything that happened, of the things I didn’t say.

I want to call Ed back. I want to tell him that I’d marry him because he is my one chance with a guy. I want to take Elizabeth Anne’s check and fly us somewhere where I can have a house, even a tiny one. Then when people talk about apartments or government housing I can say I have no fucking clue about any of that shit. Most of all I’m thinking that I love Ed and that we could be happy. But of course I won’t tell him that.

Book Update

2005-01-05T20:09:00.000-05:00

Here All Is Familiar: Book I is almost done. It will be published through Lulu. I will update with a link when it is done.

Savages

2005-01-03T22:27:00.000-05:00

Savages

It was ballet. A small step here, the slight turn of the ankle and swish, there! The beast ran by and turned around. It grunted and charged. Arms moved gracefully through the air then suddenly dropped sharply. Swish. Red flowed through the air and fell gently, colouring the ground. Swish. Francis moved quickly now, yelling out, moving aside to let the beast run. Run, he thought, just not too far. He moved his hand in jabs, swiftly, and it was done. Crimson poured on the floor and applause followed. The beast moaned one last time watching Francis as he removed his helmet, his soldiers pin and put them both on the floor before his commanding general. Eyes watched and gave the hint of a smile, blinking in approval. Two cleaners moved into the arena and grabbed the beast, slitting its throat and gathering up it’s mangled body. One of them sighed.

It was ballet. A small step to the left here, a graceful turn. The stage was on fire, lights dancing and you could feel the tension. The crowd’s audible gasp roared and resonated through the arena. Then the other beasts charged. Swish! Bang!

It was ballet. A small step to the left here, a graceful turn. It was guns blasting to the tune. It was a sword clanging to the floor. It was death; the most passionate movement.

The audience applauded. Yes, that will do, that will do.

Dulce

2005-01-01T02:32:00.000-05:00

Dulce

My first kiss was under a pier in Coney Island. It included sticky ice cream hands, cotton candy lips and chocolate tongues. I was a server Nathans, he helped Sidney run the kiddie rides. We met under the boardwalk right where it turns out into the ocean. Our tan skin collided against each other’s with a clumsy passion that can only be known to children, the almost prepubescent group of explorers. He was older than me and considered me a child. But it didn’t matter because he called me ‘beautiful.‘ His hands were not strong yet, and he had not grown much but his voice was changing. His hands clasped the small mounds on my chest that had not yet filled out and I remember being only able to put my hands around his waist, pulling him closer because I did not want to return to the real world. I didn‘t want to return to anything.. It was a hunger not satisfied by complex sweets, but it was sated under the pier, amongst the sand, in plain view where somehow no one saw us at all.

Our Dark Side

2004-12-31T22:10:00.001-05:00

Our Dark Side of the Moon

Your hair was the brightest shade of red I had ever dreamed of
and I used it to burn our names onto the stars
We loved it there, you and I
There, where vanilla rolled off you like smoke and I breathed it in

Still, nothing lasts forever…

Our tears joined as one on the way down and filled in the seas
I let you swim home hoping you carried pieces of me
While I hid the white flags my heart was so frantically waving
Letting them cool the ashes and stardust you so lovingly left behind

Excerpt from Nova

2004-12-28T22:23:00.000-05:00

Excerpt From "Nova"

Benjamin walked up the hill, slowing down with each step. He had been walking for hours trying to find her, but he couldn’t. When he reached the top he saw her just sitting there. Her blue hair hung limply off her shoulders, her green eyes pale and almost transparent. Her clothes were worn and frayed but then again so were most people’s. He took a deep breath and walked over to her, setting himself gently on the grassy patch beside her, the few left in this world. He opened his mouth to speak and closed it suddenly, realizing she was in no mood to talk.
Benjamin followed her gaze up to the stars: Orion. He leaned back on his elbows and watched the cars go by, sending up small clouds of ash under their tires. They stayed like this for what seemed like an eternity. He was about to drift off to sleep when he heard a slight clicking noise. Three long clicks, three short, three long again. SOS. He looked over to see her still sitting in the same position, with her lighter in the air clicking it on and off.
“What are you doing?” He asked her softly.
“Trying to signal other UFO’s, trying to find help.” She said not removing her gaze from the stars above. He moved closer to her and placed his head on her shoulder. Together they watched the stars until dawn, when the sun descended from space and shined it’s light on the ashes

Passion

2004-12-26T23:39:00.000-05:00

Passion

There is a craving deep in my soul that stretches past my ribs
into my fingertips
calling to my mind to let it materialize
but it won't
They battle, these two parts of me, until one
triumphs; a painful defeat
like an angry tongue licking at the matches
leaving the tongue scarred and numb,
bringing a trail of smoke to crown the victors head

Ink to Bark

Edit Red Widget

Cinders

More Than Anything

When I Was A Child

One Thing Left To Say

Primer

Algunas

Dearest You

The Tide (WIP)

WIP: Que El Mundo Esperes

Memorias Escondidas En Mi Espina Dorsal

The Bright Lover on the Windowsill

Muddled

Garden

The Man

Dorothy

Dive In

Falter

The Kindess of Strangers

Sparrow

Nagame Wa Ii Desu

La Verdad

Nothing

Outpouring #3

Songs About the New Year

Damn

This Is Nothing Like Kansas

Yo!

Adios

I Desperately Need A Hug

Archive

Happy Thanksgiving!

I'll Swim Backwards

I'm sorry

Love Is Not Like Anything

I need

Hey Now...

Yeah

I take it back!

That's it.

Swing Life Away by Rise Against

Snow Died

(Insert A Good Title Here)

I went to the ER

Ugh

I'm an INFJ

Hold Me Down - Posted For Marisol

Crappy picture of a smile!

The Cricket Has Left The Building

Church Sign

The Missing

The Original Alice

Wisdom From Brand New

Currently

Overall

The Longest Survey In The World

The World At Large - Modest Mouse

Rough Draft Prequel to Frambuesas

Rebirth - Rough Draft

*Sniff*

Alkaline Trio

One Of My Favourite Songs

...

The Quiet State of Crying

The Spilling

Coheed and Cambria Lyrics

Pfft.

A Scandalous Picture of Myself

Sometimes...

With Every Breath I Wish, I Wish

When the man that I love runs back to his wife

The Library

Eh.

Cafe con Leche

Weaving the Ends In

Astronaut

Wrapped In Fiber

Something Different

Fertile

Sniff