most sloppy

I'm so fresh,
not worn down at all
I'm such a tight ship
I'm     ask girl
    how you say,
   so tight
I like this better than with anyone
and I say, that makes me sad for the past you
and so you said, don't be sad
       you're my future    you're my future


from your dirty dish work
with your dirty hands
with your master jeans
mustard jeans on
what hi fashion
  sure that
the mess
we bring this
  is home all the time
all of the messages         all of the masses
all of the messages
  every mess
we mess up my bed
I miss my hands into your hair
I miss my arms around your shoulders
you mess up and down my body
you message across my back,
you mess up
  my mind
we missed in and out of each others brains
mass in
mess out
  we are massive pod
on a flat floor flat surface, cush ground
breathe heavy snore me for me
I'll whisper tired hate at you
are breathing so rough so sleep
    estoy dormir
I'm sorry it's just a mess
something called something
  for something
it's unsafe to step across your body
it's wrong to walk up on it
and through all the sorries
we can sure of it laugh at it mess it up more
just call it out
  of love

hotcruster

a couple of women came into the coffeeshop
one wore a shirt reading,
  DUCT TAPE HAS 1,001 USES-
    toilet paper isn't one of them
she carried a tote bag
on it was printed menopausal wine puns
LIFE IS A CABERNET
LIFE, LIKE WINE, GETS BETTER WITH AGE
and
LIFE'S SHORT, LET'S WINE
her huskyvoiced buddy tried to order a rum & coke, but we don't serve that here
so she
asked for a glass of chardonnay, as she puffed on her electronic cigarette.
today a lady complimented me on the grubby bandana I have hanging from my neck
I laughed, thinking she's
probably never seen something so dirty
but she can't smell it, so
it's a nice statement (her words)
I went swimming last night at 9
topless, in the 109 degree sunset
the air cooled to a temperate 98.6 degrees
the same as a sweltering jungle
but for me, it was only perfect
I sat there, with friends
with a corona, of course
thinking about being 30 & loving coronas
& being 30 & loving the eagles concert I'll be attending
I said goodbye to ian
until we take our northwest tour
to olympia, to portland
to goodbye the rainforests
but right now I can't keep open big dryeyes
I like the heat in idaho
in july
it's 106 degrees
I like the sad you
but that makes me sad
it makes me sad that I want you to be
because I'm the jerk
want your asuffer
I want my friends to visit me at work
the sad one, with the sad life moment
and the tall one who makes me feel Good
the superficial kind of Good
because I've given up on That, for now
& I'm cool
with just swaying timelessly through the heat of the days
my claws withdrawn in cottonball paws
but I want to get scratched, a little
through the skin beneath the surface
in the ancient long nights
in the grass with you, on blankets beneath streetlights with you
because I like to be surprised
to be given a feeling of any sort
an alive kind of sorts
trying to keep my big eyes big
so no crust to calcify me shut
I won't shut
up
until I bleed
in some eventuals,
and I will
I will
I so will

hurt my feelings

okay so I've been talking to the universe, and

  I think

  I think

it's trying to tell me that Idaho is my beautiful home

  what, something about the countryside

    because I spend time there, in the sagebrush

and I love it when my hands are so dirty

  I look tan,

    cinnamon

and then my car stops working

  because I'm blogging in it while it's raining

   listening to the radio, it's all really good

    smoking 1,000 smokes

and how will we ever get out of here, now?

 that sort of thing.

But of course, I just needed to get jumped

Nickey & I found a secret clubhouse

  in the foothills, it overlooks all of Boise

  in a way that makes it seem

  like it really is a city for trees

one can't see the buildings

it looks like it did when those frenchcanadian people showed up in their beaverskin caps.

why am I so angry

why am I surprised

when people don't like me,

don't want to be my friend.

I want to say a lot of very cruel, inconsequential things

  I want to hurt someone's feelings

   more than mine could ever be

because that's what big men do 

they break one another down

I guess, so I hear

I'm not a pick-on-you

 I'm not a hurter 

  I'm not even a hurtee

like I was, once.

I am thick, I know

 but I still have these knives in me

  and I know they can be good for the stabbing

but I am out of the habit-of-cruel

 and it doesn't come naturally

so I should probably just go to the clubhouse, now

  and be sweet & good

   and forget that love-sadness-regret-anger-hatred cycle

    that I've been riding.

This is a Diary entry

  for no one at all

I just don't know how to write a diary, anymore

  like I don't know how to walk or run

   I just know how to memorize

    and to look hard

     and to feel hard

      

     and I'm forgetting how

to wish

  which is the only good thing I've learned to forget

things we know about me:

I am 26 and a half today; it means that at every moment I come closer to being 27. 

Really, at every moment I come closer to being 28, and 31, and 46.

I have a dog. She was dirty, but then it snowed & she ran in it, and suddenly she's crystal clean.

I usually call Fat Tire Flat Tire but it's often the only beer in my mother's refrigerator. I unpacked it from her luggage; she moved the beer from california in august.

I am no longer sick.

I can wear pants, if I like.

I'm wearing these pants I got & wore everyday in london. I am wearing wool tights underneath.

There is snow & blue sky outside, and it reminds me of chicago at its wintry best. The crunch beneath my bootheels satisfies.

I am not hungry.

I am aware of my jobs.

I am ready to play pool & to drink pitchers. 

I am ready to wake up in different places, like colorado, and a tropical island, and new york.

I will paint my room the colors of the painted desert, once I have a room to paint. 

My fingernails are way, way too long.

I hold no grudges.