yesterday I watched Twilight

I'm going to lean on you on the train

pretend my eyes are closed

and stare at our reflection in the window.

one dinner

on wednesday night i went to lentil as anything for dinner. i write about this place a lot, because i tend to eat there on the reg. it is a vegetarian buffet where you 'pay as you feel' but they are losing money so you should pay at least $10 for your meal and it is usually good food so they deserve it (or much more). 

i rode my bike there after a long day at uni writing my thesis. i was very tired but felt i could not go home because my housemates were meeting people to take my room when i go overseas. so i was meeting my friend gordon for dinner. he was going to be a little while so i sat down inside and waited for him. as i sat down this man said 'excuse me - your jacket is very nice, where'd you get it?' i was so dazed from the ride and feeling exhausted and then a little embarrassed because i didn't know what to say as i actually found the jacket in a pile of hard rubbish (when people leave old furniture etc on the street for the council to collect) a few years ago. i faltered. he said 'op shop?' and i figured i could tell a weird old man it was hard rubbish, plus he already thought it was nice so it probably wouldn't damage my reputation.

i sat for a while just waiting for gordon. i read some pages of 'the zinester's guide to nyc'. the (old) man spoke to me again. said he was a performance poet and he was writing poems about people who were at lentils that night. he gave me this piece of paper.

it is a horrible poem about how i have nice clothes and why am i having dinner alone. at the time i said 'aw thanks' and just went back to reading. i felt too tired to engage with him, plus i was worried he would try to hit on me (officially). so i probably seemed vapid or something. i was just immensely tired.  gordon arrived and i said his hair looked like a hitler youth. he said others had complimented him. i said that was cause all the people he knows are nazis. i was joking. and probably the poet thought i was dating gordon. i am not. after we ate gordon and i went on a lovely walk over this hill that looks over the abbotsford convent and you can see the city really nice and it was a lovely clear night and the lights were so pretty and i love this city. 

natural news

I like when it rains in the summer.
I like cafes where they are not afraid to play sad music.
I like cafes where they have brown sugar.
When I say 'wish you were here' I might mean 'wish you were having this experience instead of me but not together because then it would be different'.

Sometimes I think I'm psychic
then I remember I don't believe in that shit.
Sometimes I think I'm a very good person
then I remember a time I felt very embarrassed.
Last weekend a boy who went to my high school died in a car crash,
the newspaper called him a 23 year old man.

I did not mind the locusts
it means there's always noise and movement
when you move towards them
they fly away in a flurry
I think of Laura Ignalls Wilder.
Lately I have been wondering if other people think I'm fat.

Today I rode home in the rain
my brakes were not very strong -
I bought quiche for dinner -
the neighbours whistled.
We keep the front and back doors open.

i am alone and i read internet things and think about myself and try

I just read about Robert Downey Jnr on wikipedia. I have always found him attractive. When I think of him I think "I want to see Due Date" then I think "me and so-and-so were meant to see it but now I bet I won't see him for a while" I consider txting him to organise the movie anyway. I think "he looks a bit like RDJ" (I think the acronym) then I remember that comedy band I saw at Will Ma manor with someone else when we went together and how I wore my pinafore and I was freezing and he only kissed me goodbye and did not walk me all the way home. I wonder if I could publish this as 'bad poetry' on the blog and whether I would take out people's names and whether these thoughts are poetic at all, could people care about this?







one day I woke up with scratches behind my ear
first I thought it was a rash
then I thought maybe I had been raped and drugged

I do not have sharp nails and
I do not have a cat but
I have a bracelet made of peg wires
I guess I sleep with my hands behind my neck

I kept my hair down because people exclaimed
I like that they thought "stuff" about my neck
I liked to touch the scratches
they were a mystery to me

I liked that maybe I would have interesting mysterious neck scars
The scars seemed like a gift
I like all the scars that I have
There are scars on my left arm because I am right handed

posture

i closed my laptop
i rang a friend
i cried

my friend and i walked
we talked about memory and atheism
we smoked

our tofu was silken and delicious
we did not finish our food
we left a $3.60 tip

we are the same kind of interested in each other

late

i want to write a poem
but it is late
and my eyelids are drooping
so i just type some letters
and hope that my brain
can still work out some
breathtaking metaphor or something about
why people hurt each other so much
and about how i feel so sad
but all my brain can concentrate on
is that it is late
my eyelids are drooping

lower case/heaviness

sometimes i'll get this really heavy feeling
and i'll be endlessly scrolling through my itunes library
trying to find the perfect song
to cure the heaviness
and
quite often
i do not find it
edit: jon lemmon - somewhere with something

The ache

I was trying to explain to someone
that there is this ache
and sometimes this ache
feels euphoric
and sometimes it
makes you want to die.