you are the big rocket launcher

I have begun obsessing over the private moments with friends, sitting on beds in hotel rooms and waiting in queues. What do we talk about? What does it all "mean"? It's so hard to explain what this impetus is.

You are the only witness to a day that will never happen again. You will never say my name again like you did, you and I will never see each other that way again. One little glance, one little raised eyebrow, one laugh, it means something else in the cold light of day.

"I don't drink...but you can buy me a beer."

(Yes, and...?)

I am from every(no)where. The way I say your name and the way you'll remember me tomorrow, away from the smoky rooms and long nights.

(Yes, and...?)

I tell the truth and I don't want the consequences.

(Yes, and...?)

Je ne regrette rien, but you knew that already.

(Yes, and...?)

I do not mean to be cryptic. I love the sound of my own voice.

(I'm aware that you're scared / of my heart / but it's here)

There's someone waiting for you in Capetown, with her heart on every sleeve.

(Yes,

but...?)

I was doing so well today, too. Put on a pretty white dress and did my hair and wore a smile and boasted about what a change Sunday was, and I go to one fucking grocery shop and they play one fucking song and I'm back to sobbing in a bathroom stall, hands shaking and throat closing. This isn't fair! I'm done, I've chosen my path!

I'm trying to be your Switzerland, your west coast girl. My feet are bleeding to be your girl. My hands are shaking to be your girl. I've given you each piece of my heart and now I'm left staring at the hole in my chest. Do you know what it's like with your finger on the wrong trigger, every note the right one? Do you know what it means to choose a path that makes everyone happy but you? The path is crumbling beneath my feet.

You’re the moon but I'm no tide. I had a dream about sharks and aliens, and I woke up standing in the middle of a road. But it was just another dream, but I can remember saying, "the air was shimmering like a mirage". And so are you. I don't know what to do any more, I don't know what any of this means except that I'm stuck clicking next on my iPod and terrified of shopping for eggs.

There's two weeks left til I get to look you in the face, til I get to say whatever it is that's going to be on my mind, but I'm not sure I’ll be able to, anyway.

I remember that I hate LAX, and that whenever I hand over my passport I get a double-take because I don't look anything like my picture any more. I don't feel like I'm here, just some shimmer. I'm a unicorn and a mermaid all wrapped into one, and you're the only one that caught me. You are horrifying.

All I wanna do is love you still, and feel your hand curl over my hip, and smell your just washed hair. But I don't know what shampoo you're using any more, and I can't remember how your fingers felt.

It’s like watching your favourite movie but getting amnesia twenty minutes in. I'm not letting the right one in; I'm letting the wrong one out.

kiss me, kiss me, you're the only one.
kill me, kill me, you're the last one.
bury me beneath the stairs, and forget about me.

Sometimes, I feel like I am another person, who has come to this place I am now not fully aware of how I got here. (This is a memory from long ago, when I was a tired hipster travelling between Atlanta and Los Angeles. I miss that life.)

I meant to sit down and write this last week while I was in Los Angeles, but the words wouldn't really settle down in any coherent pattern. They're still sort of fighting this sort of black and white version of events.

I flew to Los Angeles last week. Life had been wearing me down (not any worse or better than usual, I just needed a holiday). Landing in LAX just makes me feel weird, because there's always some random photographer waiting for a celebrity to land, and he's always looking over your face as you walk through baggage claim and to whatever car is picking you up. One time I got a town car service and the photographer asked me if I was a foreign actress. I wish I had lied.

My dad has a house in LA, or else I couldn't REALLY afford to stay up in the hills and wake up each morning looking out over other million dollar houses. His house is too big for just me, so I'm always inviting friends up, but it's still too big. And I only use certain rooms like the kitchen and my bathroom and my bedroom and the smoking room and the media room...okay, yeah, maybe I wander the halls like a ghost. It's so weird and quiet after the housekeeper is gone and I'm left to my own devices. I feel a bit like mad old Miss Havisham, only I'm twenty-three and no one has quite yet stood me up at the altar. My father's house is big and rambling, but hardly falling apart. I wonder, when he dies, what I'll do with it.

--

They say A man's home is his castle as if you rule your domain. In Topanga Canyon, you are ruled by the surf and the sky so very close to the sea. In LA, you are ruled by your zip code, your area code and the car you drive. I faked my life in LA, faked it well enough to trick the natives; not that anyone is a native of LA. Everyone is running from something out there, and at 23, I hid with my 'cool' friends in my father's amazing house. When I go there now, my cool friends are back home but I still wonder as I wander, out under the sky.

I shall be participating in LJ Idol, which will probably help me write everything I need to write this year anyway. Luckily I am writing an introduction for my Religious Exploration class at my church.

Posted via m.livejournal.com.

( triggers for fat phobia, ed )

i should just resign myself to failing. i've never actually succeeded anyway.

i have a giftcard from fortnum & mason. did anyone want me to get something for them? i remember someone wanted tea, but i don't remember who (was it you teapostal that wanted some queen anne tea?).

just let me know in the comments if you'd like something.

edited to add: it was a 100£ giftcard.

Finished

22. Pass Foreign Service Officer Test. 7 Jan 2013 (did not get position)

34. Ask 100 people to recommend me one song and make playlists of them, no matter what they are. (130/100) 29 Jan 2013

99. Buy a Moleskine journal. 15 Jan 2013

Working On

08. Eat vegetarian for 60 non-consecutive days. (4/60)

25. Read fifty books. (5/50) (currently reading: No Logo by Naomi Klein)

40. Write five letters with a typewriter. (1/5)

63. Make an official packing list.

66. Call a good friend at least once a month. (1/33)

95. Buy five things from Amazon wishlist. (1/5)

start: 1 January 2014
end: 28 September 2016

( health and beauty )

( personal improvement )

( creativity/entertainment )

( online/technology )

( life skills )

( social skills )

( travel )

( purchases )

( misc )

note: goal not accomplished if less than 70% of the goal was finished, or a singular goal was not accomplished.