amanda

Sun, 05 Oct 2003 00:28:22 GMT

oops. it's not that i forgot, exactly. i've just been otherwise occupied, i supposed. so here's the new poem. it's more of poem-let, really, just a little zygote of a piece with lots of blank space to be filled in.

shh, amanda. just give them the poem.

untitled

my pale skin covered in deep black
lips shaded in blood red and a pencil line around the eyes
i swagger when i walk
clothing wearing me
flesh and bone an accessory to draped fabric

other days pigtails and bell-bottoms
talking about love through a haze of smoke

disrobed disappeared
vacant without outer signifiers of identity

Sat, 28 Jun 2003 05:16:10 GMT

my boycrush is becoming more real. i can't decide if this is a good thing.

Tue, 24 Jun 2003 02:38:02 GMT

arrgh. this crush is killing me. someone explain to me why interesting boys only pop up when i want to be single or a lesbian, please.

i will write more and be less flippant on a day when i got more than forty-three seconds of sleep.

Tue, 17 Jun 2003 03:55:46 GMT

oh, thank god! i finally changed the style, and it's so much more pleasant.

Tue, 17 Jun 2003 03:33:39 GMT

this is a piece that's been running around my head for a while. i think there are bits that are good. there are also bits that are not good. it's a piece that's in process. not that all things aren't necessarily in process, but this one is particularly and consciously in process. i also really like how bits of it sound out loud. maybe it's a spoken word piece. i have no idea. so i suppose now i should just be quiet and type it out, right? yeah.

no title. not yet.

we met a million years ago
our skin the sand of the earth
undeveloped and untilled
we lived in the caves of each other
we foraged for nutrition and we fed off of our discoveries

we weathered the stone age, the ice age, the bronze age, restoration, enlightenment, renaissance, reconstruction, romanticism
we endured empires: byzantium, rome and british
we built tools to create and destroy
then we invented printing presses to spread our genius
we built pre-fab houses and wrote coming of age novels
we limped through dada, expressionism and the absurd
when we were bored we twisted our youth and called it neo or retro
we became oh-so-postmodern and mocked the tools we once fashioned with our fingers
we are foreign to ourselves and each other
we become discourse; we are cold and bloodless

however, face to face our history is solid
carved in each freckle, each blemish, each dimple, each crease
our eyes (yours three shades darker) the physical embodiment of every moment simulaneously
housing now contemporaneou with every past
filling negative space between our heads with what is, was and forever will be

yeah, i definitely don't like the end. and comments, critiques, etc. are more than welcome.

Fri, 13 Jun 2003 23:30:48 GMT

new journal. it's nice. it feels really really freeing. i'll still be updating the old one, but i got tired of having to censor myself. the ex still reads that, in fact, still links to it when he finds something worth commenting on, and it got very tiring always trying to edit what i was saying, knowing that he was reading, that he was directing traffic there (not that i mind traffic, persay, but i'd prefer not to be getting large numbers of hits from people who only know me as someone's ex-girlfriend), and that traffic he was sending in that direction were not only reading, but were also commenting on what i had to say, unfavorably i might add.

phew. so that's done. end explanation. so yeah, purplesparklies will still be going on, but things that i can't write there, i'll be putting here. i'm not quite sure what the relationship between the two will be yet, so bear with me for a bit while i sort out new ground.

i think this is a good thing. i think it's very very good.