looks like snow.

i'm waiting to suffocate on my exhales
to be wind chiseled and corroded
to be water shined and smoothed to perfection

( a few days old )

i've never seen this before:






all the streets have turned white and huge chunks of sidwalk as well.



good job, salters.

all my energy has left. the new lock is on my door and hooray for that but maybe i should go back to bed. the whole process lasted about four hours.














feeling pretty lonely, i guess.

for awhile i snapped everyone with an umbrella that i could.

the haze and cloudy from the rain has suddenly begun clearing up and blinding light is coming thru my windows. blue sky and clouds burning white are definitely welcome after a dark sunrise and early morning.

( yesterday. from the train )

it's been unforgivably cloudly recently. way to masquerade as me, you fucking jerk.

i've been capturing cars in motion. cars pararllel parking below. that's what i photograph and i wish i were a statue so i could better steal them. until then, it's all a balancing act. a balancing act where i'm crashing to the floor. broken bones. broken hearts. broken floor. the show is over.

when i walk down the hallways at night i trail my hand against the wall and i look at peepholes for light. not awake. not awake. not awake. awake. not awake.

i bought two copies of the most ridiculous movie. the second copy is a present i'll probably never send. seems like i do that a lot.

when did the sun rise?

i'm beginning to see a definite beauty in junk email. something that slightly existed before but now is searing. my one email account gets the best of it. the most clever misspells and spectacular sender names. one of these days i'll pick one and be off for a legal name change.

you'll be saying:

hello! Ant L. Recognizance

how are you today, Toughens T. Avarice?

but there have been better ones. ones i can't believe i didn't save. ones i've shared with people before because a craft like that can't go unnoticed. i guess it's something that can't go unnoticed but can be forgotten. sad.

(no, i never open these emails)

ooof. why am i sitting in? i need something to do.

all i had/have to say: i really need some cuddle comforting and a lot of alcohol. i feel so sick.

( train ride )

it would seem that refrigerated oreos don't twist apart like room temperature ones do. darn.

(i'm keeping cookies, anything not sealed, in the fridge. bugs!)

that, same car, car alarm is going off again. i can't belive this is for real.

c-c-c-c-ccccold

-er than the air conditioner full blast nonstop.

sense. mm bathe in warmth.

and it says mmmmm come outside. let me play with your hair and chchchchill your skin. but probably only because i haven't left the floor today.

i saw what i wanted to see. i see what i want to see.
it seems to be all my problems right now.

that's a lie.

we saw the art museum fireworks from a rooftop by 27th and girard. it gave a little and i kept feeling like i shouldn't stand too close to the other people. there were four children, all small and adorable.

look! the helicopters are watching the fireworks!

who is you? my name is jen. ok! (runs away)

when the fireworks started they looked amazed and wow! clapping and screams of delight. the little girl came and sat with me for awhile and she told me she wanted to go to the fireworks and touch them. i wish i could be up there and touch them. it's cold. brrrrrr. (runs away).

then back again lying on the roof. chin on hands, elbows on roof, feet in the air. then the other two kids followed her. and they're still so excited by the fireworks. two girls, one boy. littlest girl hugs the boy and he says something like "HEY DON'T HUG ME!" so she stops and a few seconds later he says "ok. hug time!" and opens his arms real wide.

then back. played a lot of mechassault, watched some movies. Robin and the 7 Hoods (frank sinatra, woo wooo), and the million dollar hotel.

it's my last night in ny. i shouldn't be sitting in.



i bought a ridiculous hat, and a ridiculous bag. i have a ridiculous hair color. i don't know what happened.

from The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy

"Estha had always been a quiet child, so no one could pinpoint with any degree of accuracy exactly when (the year, if not the month or day) he had stopped talking. Stopped talking altogether, that is. The fact is there wasn't an "exactly when." It had been a gradual winding down and closing shop. A barely noticeable quietening. As though he had simply run out of conversation and had nothing left to say. Yet Estha's silence was never awkward. Never intrusive. Never noisy. It wasn't an accusing, protesting silence as much as a sort of estivation, a dormancy, the psychological equivalent of what lungfish do to get themselves through the dry season, except that in Estha's case the dry season looked as though it would last forever.

Over time he had aquired the ability to blend into the background of wherever he was-- into bookshelves, gardens, curtains, dooryways, streets-- to appear inanimate, almost invivisble to the untrained eye. It usually took strangers awhile to notice him even when they were in the same room with him. It took hem even longer to notice that he never spoke. Some never noticed at all.

Estha occupied very little space in the world. "

boomboom
was what it sounded like outside earlier
outside of my windows
it was the end of the world


the windows are shut. they give and shake. the wind ignores them and pulls on the doors, rattling. am i sure they're shut? i am sure. i am never really sure. i can check. i know it's shut, locked. i have my doubts.


i want things to change more than they do, to work faster, to work thru this. looking for that text file i found some things i wrote my first weeks of college. wished and cursed because there are so many similarities between then and now and the in between.

class today. professor a few feet away keeps telling me my name isn't jennifer -------. 'are you really? no, you can't be.' i try to smile and i whisper 'no, i am.' an hour later, my face is red and i can't breathe; my entire body is covered in sweat. then class had a short conversation about why i didn't want to read my paper aloud.

to expand- they compared me to the main character saying i had low self-esteem and a few other things. one girl raises her hand and says maybe it's not that at all and i'm being an individual by refusing to read my paper like everyone else (not something she'd base off any particular thoughts about who i might be, she's just argumentative). something about anarchy. what's wrong with anarchy? etcetera.

everyone has up their sleeping away message, sleeping would be nice.

"In the middle of the night you wake up. you start to cry. What's happening to me? Oh, my life, oh, my youth....
There's some wine left in the bottle. You drink it. The clock ticks. Sleep.... "

while on lexington waiting to cross the street someone says "what's that?" as he points to my head. i have my hood up but there's a piece of (pink) hair showing along my face. i pull off my hood as an explanation and we start talking. it's a nice conversation (he doesn't flirt) and when he's saying goodbye his friend suggests he get my phone number. so he asks and i say "well i don't actually have a phone" he says "to be truthful, neither do i. we'll leave it to destiny to bring us together again."