s y s t e m atic

desire: someone fierce to be in my daily life

i feel weeks turn over and blow away like
leaves under a tree
what am i doing?
i'm sleeping in late
i'm working on a career
i'm doing smart, sensible things
i'm worrying like Thoreau did
that i'll die only to realize i never lived.
it's not what you do, it's how you do it
i'm doing things in a lesser shade of the vibrance i once blossomed under

desire: someone fierce to be in my daily life

so that i don't forget what it feels like.

“i don’t want to repeat my innocence. i want the pleasure of losing it again.”


-f. scott fitzgerald

things i wish still happened

-walks through neighborhoods with big hills, picking magnolias and talking big about love
-sitting in the parked car wordlessly. sometimes crying, sometimes not. sometimes music, sometimes not.
-soy lattes and vegan cupcakes
-going to parties despite hating parties
-never being static
-always creating
-sushi/slurpee dates
-sunday hikes & meditations
-conversations that always left me breathless and inspired
-spending too much money on burritos
-exploring

soon,
soon,
soon,

i love thursdays

it's one hour into this one.
i'm awake puking up words for any internet fiend who feels like stopping by
i got a job!
i feel very strongly about the occupy wall street movement but haven't done a thing to support it
i have decided that in two years i am moving to europe, if i may muster the willpower to save money rather than spending it on records.
money doesn't mean anything. black magic. an invisible system that we've made the fulcrum of the entire human existence.
i know people who refuse to touch money. who live free of it.
and let me tell you,
they are happy people.

my father deployed today.

i'm the type of girl who spent elementary school deciding on universities with prestige and such
drooling over the idea of an adult education
the type of girl who thought people who didn't go to college were stupid.
and here i am
not going to college. blissfully.
the universe has a fantastic sense of humor

sometimes salt lake feels like a fish bowl,
sometimes salt lake feels like a road that never ends

listening to the BBC in French

because i hope to absorb something i can't quite touch
a dream you wake up with in the back of your throat 
clawing, scratching
to be verbalized into 
a plan
a place to point your feet.

my flat will be painted red and covered in 
tastefully
or maybe distastefully 
nude art ,

and i will look out the window and think

the only thing i really need is myself.

nbd

photo by Angela Brown, SLUG Magazine

WHO AM I TO
 BLOW
AGAINST
THE
WIND
?