dearest terry et.al.,
please do not throw us in friendship jail!

our weekend of fun was abruptly ended
since consolations must be lended.

wishing of so much snow time mirth
in a cabin like lincoln was birth'd

but alas! t'was birth's opposite
that kept us apart from it.

sorry to all whose funds were decreased
by those who must visit the recently deceased

hoping fun was had by all...
trisha and paul

i am too young it seems, but regardless there is a strange tickling of nostalgia floating on the edges as of late. i am not even a fan of nostalgia, so it is a curious feeling.
even curiouser is a sense of nostalgia for things i haven't even experienced yet. like i will get a glimpse of dappled sunlight through a tree canopy in peru, or holding my child. but these images have an ever so dull edge of sadness that can be sweet, mixed with a weird floating no time feeling.
maybe nostalgia is just the wrong word. but what word might there be? maybe presque vu, i definitely need another language to describe this photo album of the mind thing going on.

maybe these are the first whisperings of my spring.

whoever 'you' are. on franklin/linwood and north there's a tiny park where the skateboarding punks do their grind hootchacallits and generally make a lot of racket or so some namelessentity must think, because a generic sign was put up, just a white background with plain black lettering that says NO SKATEBOARDING. (someone scribbled out the NO w black marker and wrote in yes, ha ha)
there's no city ordinance or penalty violation information on the sign, which leads me to believe it was put up by one of the neighboring businesses, one being a lawyer's firm, the other a dentist. you can't just do that though, it's a park.
the park is also used as a play area for elementary school children who go to the charter school on the same corner. on nice days, they'll all go outside and hoot and holler and play mother-may-i and such whatnot childlike games, but generally cause a ruckus for quiet type citydwellers such as myself, who just want to garden at 2pm. in peace. without the incessant screaming of children. what i need to do is find out who "owns" this park, if the yuppie ass charter school (for which yupass vehicles have made my parking situation bloody torturous) bought it "for the kids" i sure hope not, cause the minute that's negative i'm hanging my own sign that says NO EXCITED SCHOOLCHILDREN right next to the goddamned one about no skateboarding. bah fucking humbug, brats.

Envoie-moi un e-mail. i just remembered a dream i had, except i can't say for sure if it was a dream, or a tv program. this is especially grave given the nature of the dream:

a girl flops down face up on a bed, her face is covered with her hands, then she takes her hands away. she is in distress, and makes a wail like so. she's wondering 'what am i going to do?' but then, in the exact same bed (against a different wall of the room) lies the exact same girl, who starts telling her just what she's going to do, and nastily. she is quite diabolical, this one. the "camera" then flashes to a bunk above the first girl's bed (tv style: not seen previously so as to reveal excitingly) where lies the exact same girl, who agrees in a practical manner with the nasty one, and explains to the first girl that it's a sound plan. the first girl isn't disturbed, but the watcher is: to see the others in flesh is what makes it so.

i remember being surprised that there were three. i remember after the third one, the story cut off somehow, either by changing channel or commercial or another sleep cycle, which is fucked up that i can't say which. like a blackout or a fugue state. it seems too weird and personal (the girl looked a lot like claire danes, who i think i bear just a little bit resemblance to) to be tv, but i remember thinking that while watching it. in a dream, can you be the 'star' and be watching at the same time? and if it did happen in some tv reality induced state of my 'real life', whatthefuckwasthat?

could it be happieness? ha ha, this early on a sunday, no one has stars. i just had an unsatisfying meal of pig ass and chicken periods. happy sunday!!!

talked to my bro (the only one of 6 i'm close to, somehow i've really fucked up as a sister, or perhaps the problem is having brothers) about money, capitalism, bitterness, the ridiculousness of going to mars, etc. he is so bright i am a bit scared for him. he has a boatload of talent. he writes *really good* lyrics, poems, draws these amazing and fucked up pictures, and picked up bass like a paperclip on the floor. but, and i told him this, at 16 he has the fine tang of bitterness of a 70 year old who worked in a factory for 50 and got a pocketwatch for his retirement. he's bright in a way that could burn out really quick, because hatred and bitterness and resentment about the way the world works only gets you so far. it's strange for me, having thought and felt some of the same ways as he does, but now looking back and seeing what "work" "responsibility" "maturity" the "real world" have done to all those ideas/ideals. makes me feel like a sellout, stripped of some former youthful idealistic passion. but for things, for life, sad but true, the do re mi is necessary. he hasn't gotten a job yet, and knows he already hates it. but i am glad he's not asleep in some hilfiger haze, hanging out at the mall (yeahsaralet'sburnitbytheway) and saying 'sup all the time. HE THINKS, BY JOB! HIS HEART BLEEDS, GODDAMNIT!





secondhand heels cause falls on ice
a program might catch you
stretching gently and harmlesslike
you the star in the grid
of some one sky or another

not today.
you think: i fucking need new boots


like i said, manic. is this your homework larry. larry is this your fucking homework. is this your fucking HOMEwork larry.