cbacl
A girl two nights ago told me she wanted to be a writer. She said her dad told her to write a page a day. (I've just read some bad slam poetry and now it's making me consider a rewrite.)
When I first met my cousin Daniel, I remarked two things, his ox tattoo and that he mentioned he was scuba certified. What did Sylvia Plath say about trying on different lives like dresses? It's odd to think how many people I won't be in this life.
In my lab reading last week Aristotle compared senator's and many-leaved plants, or were they the parts of animals? I miss my mom.
I can barely look at other boys without wondering what it means to love you. What's that saying about 'whatever people say they are, I notice they seldom aren't." Anyway.
I wrote in my journal today about how bad I felt for the rest of the United States they didn't adorn their selves in lei's to celebrate every occasion.
Yesterday when we were in Bois de Vincennes and making our way through fields of people, we had all paired off into twos to talk to one another and the sight of that relaxed me.
I don't know much about how technology works. I've had two boyfriends try to explain shutter speed to me and I guess I just wasn't listening. I do feel like the curtains are drawn back on the whole show somehow, like the moment where the great and powerful Oz is revealed, whenever I zoom into a picture far enough to see the pixels.
Short, curled hair and polyester dresses with slow pulling zippers, wet from running through damp grass. These are the nicer, pre-horror images I have in my head when I think of people having to flee under the cover of nightfall for fear of being shipped off to camps.
When I went to see Spring Breakers all I could think about what Vampire Weekend singing about Balaclavas and my friend Diane and porn stars and who I was in middle school. Where are all the pictures of me from my youth? Am I not supposed to be reflecting on that time yet? On the years where I wore neon sleeveless hoodies from wet seal and enjoyed the music of the Penfifteen Club?
Let's delve a little deeper here. Where does my affection for somber, unkind boys come from?
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