I want to find $15.00 so I can go buy condoms then sleep until Friday.

Ohmyjesus, life is beyondbeyondbeyond crazy!

I have a lot of obligations right now, in the middle of February we're sending a play to a festival and I'm one of the leads. Currently, it's all actingactingacting, studying for finals, to much band class and not enough time for kissing, writing, gossiping.

And I lost my script, it has all my blocking in it and our director is going to yell at me; I hate being yelled at.

On the bright side, I read Looking For Alaska again and I loved it just as much as the first time. And my Science teacher didn't turn my boyfriend and I in for skipping to often to go to Starbucks, she said it's only because it's us and we're to far ahead in her class for her to care all that much.

I did make something though. It's a 52 weeks under the username twntyfour it's not photography though, it's just poetry. I post every Saturday (or at least, I try to). Maybe you could add it to you f-list just for something new to wonder about, and possibly read.

Thanks for being patient with me.

I wrote this about six or seven months ago, I'm kind of proud of it.

Oh man. I haven't written a thing in ages, I think I'm back into it. The weather is really inspiring, my house is backed onto a 40 acre forest. There are several fields and at this gorgeous temperature I just want to go lay in the grass and laugh.


Your lips
brush velvet against my cheek.
Blush bright tangerine,
under your 5 o'clock shadow that took you 72 hours to grow.

So you call my name, "Hey darling."
Take my hand, "Come with me."
Touch my back, "Do I give you goosebumps?"
"No I'm just addicted to your laugh."

We dance,
Over the graveled roads built for semi trucks.
And we smile,
Under the foliage that makes me shiver.
Because really, it's cold.

You didn't bring your guitar
so we have to sing a capella.
Both our voices our off key,
Though we still create a duet worth paying for.

Our direction isn't worth paying for.

I'm thinking of making a series of short stories under the name Valerie.
They're just small things that are only me indulging in my love of romanticism.
I've started on the first couple.
But, whatever. It might get done, maybe only a little bit though.

Brendon&Ryan // 430 words // pg // for 10 Nov 09

Posted to we_are_cities

( I lost my phone charger 15 miles back, but really, I'm not important enough for it to matter. )

Today some guy walked into my bestfriend's backyard where I was sitting with my boyfiend and her brother. He started talking about sketchy guys who came and tried to give you things right after Hallowe'en (he had a really cool pumpkin, it was Jack Skellington). Then he gave me a demo, he's a smash poet and it's incredibly good.

I Know Exactly

I know exactly how they do it. Shout to the masses in their fever dream suits with elaborate words.

I know what it’s like to step from the stage and think, “Fuck, that was perfect!” Because there’s no time to be lonely when you get a fix like that ever night. Sometimes though I’d knock all my teeth out just for the feeling of home, for the chance to be anywhere but here.

I knew a girl once, she wrote her way out of every situation. Really though, all she did was lock herself in a room and write about anything for days. Whenever she’d come out she’d be cured. She told me once that she gets her high with the same words I do, perfection, for fucks sake.

Though, she’s all around the words and I’m only on one side of them. I’m on the side that the rest of the world sees.

I will never just be a picture in the back of a book; I will always be the recorded voice in the floral dress and two-toned heels.

But hell, we all get high the same way. Just tell me it was perfect and I’ll make it worth your while.

I want to sleep for days,
forget about the world,
forget about the controversy.
Remember nothing but a
feather duvet.

World Traveler

We sat for hours
speaking of ways to get anywhere but here.
We made up plans as our fingers traced the outlines of coastlines we wanted to see.

I want to sleep in the sand and let my hair get crusty from the salt.
Call my parents from Toronto just to tell my dad, "I've made it."
Hold hands on the flat plains of the prairies.

Last night we walked for hours
whispering of ways we could sneak away.
Car, truck, plane.
I've always wanted to take a train from one side to the other.

We're to young to think of the money we'd lose.
I'm going through college on scholarships and you want to be a mechanic.
We have no sense of right and wrong.

I took the roadmap from your glove compartment.
And when I lie in bed I imagine we're anywhere but here.