Black lips.

Neutralize looks all fresh and new!

        After what feels like years of hard workin' (but was really no more than a slack-assed weekend), I redesigned NEUTRALIZE. It may not have taken years to do the actual work (thanks, batch find-and-replace tools!), but it did take years to get me off my fat ass and actually decide to do it. I realized last week that I hadn't changed the layout or really gotten in there and trimmed shitty old writing since, like, high school, when most of that shitty writing was new and I thought it was awesome. I was going to put a little example here for you guys to laugh at, but then I tried to pick something and was too embarrassed. It really was all very bad.

        The layouts for my drawings and photos is the same as before because it still matches and because it was hard work to do the first time around. And I think it's nice! So I hope you do.

        I think that later, I might start a supplementary blog on which I'll post some of the shit I post here and also stuff that I wouldn't really post here because it's not very journal-y. I don't really know what that means yet. So, like, don't hold your breath.

        Anyway, go see what I did! Peruse! Talk about it on your blog so that even more people go see and peruse!!!!!!!!!!
  • Current Music
    m.i.a. / paper planes.
Black lips.

Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?

        From the dusk, you come and sit next to me, lean into my ear to tell me something. Just beyond you is a dark wall of turned backs; further still, a glowing, edgeless sound that swears and mumbles. That's heaven, I bet. Your face next to mine, your big hands on the table in front of you fussing a toy ring, your voice making its way to me through the music.
  • Current Music
    joanna newsom, emily.
Black lips.

Fear and Love in Heaven.

        Our house was on a corner, under a lot of great leafy trees and a loose knit of wires that draped beneath and sometimes pressed into the cotton blue of the sky. When it got dark, cockroaches as big as fists would come climbing out of the trees and wander into our kitchen.

        I would stay up until ten or eleven in the morning, reading and thinking, sweating and trying not to smoke. I’d play music so softly that it only hummed and I’d lay on the floor humming back, trying to forget the words.

        Around three in the morning, I’d get hungry and wander into the kitchen.

        One such morning, I fished around in the pantry and pulled out a box of instant grits. I reached into the refrigerator and got out butter, milk, cheese, reached into the cabinet above the stove and got out the measuring cup. I put a pot on the stove, and then turned toward the sink to fill the measuring cup.

        Boo, said one of the cockroaches.

        Oh! I said. Oh! I dropped the measuring cup, turned off the stove.

        What? said another of the cockroaches, sitting just above the hood of the stove, less than a foot from my face.

        Oh! I saw another, and then, over the door leading into the den, another that seemed to be no smaller than a baseball. I ran out of the room.

        Jackson, I said into the phone. You wouldn’t believe what’s going on in my kitchen.

        What is it? he said. He was staying up all the time, too, but the music he played so softly was his own.

        I don’t even know, I said. There are, like, four bugs in there that I swear to god, I’ve never seen before in my life. They look hairy! Jackson!

        They’re not hairy, he said. I can’t imagine what that would be. Can you describe them for me?

        Ugh, I said, I don’t want to. I’m so grossed out. I thought they were roaches, but they’re just so big, and they seem sort of… red.

        That sounds gross, he said.

        Uh, I said, yeah, they’re very gross. I’m never going into the kitchen again.

        Alice, he said, go to bed.

        I’m hungry! I left stuff out in there! What if they’re still there in the morning!

        That’s not how cockroaches work, my pet.

        I really can’t get this through to you, I said. These are not cockroaches. These are manifestations of a great evil intent on laying waste to the common people of the land.

        Alice, he said.

        I’m telling you, they’re not afraid of the light. I was in there for like ten minutes with all the lights on. Jackson sighed into the phone, realizing that there was little else he might do to help me. I was beyond comfort.

        I think one of them called me by name, I said.

        I think you should forget about it, he said. Or get Axel to help you. Axel is my younger brother, who by then was already a menacing 6’4” but who is as helpless in the face of the insect menace as I am.

        Maybe that’s a stupid suggestion, Jackson said.

        Yeah, I said, it is. Whatever!

        You’re going to be all right, he said, and I could hear him shuffling, bringing his guitar back into his lap.

        When they come for you, I said, I’ll remember this!

        Goodnight, he said. Goodnight, I said.
Black lips.

It's sort of like a lengthy, verbose blind item.

        In the dim cherry light of the bar, he closes his eyes tight, leans forward on his narrow little feet and coos about the woman who left him hanging. His fingers are so fast on the strings of his banjo that they seem impossible, even though he stops every few seconds to shake his head at some imagined mistake. He leans so far over the bar that he could rest his head on it, and I'd pet him, run my fingers through the bark darkness of his curls until the sun rose, until he wasn't whimpering drunk anymore.

        He straightens up again, offers me some Crown Royal. When I decline he offers it to Sarah, then Caroline. Caroline blushes, shakes her head. "I'm good," she says.

        "Come on, baby," he says. He seems to think that maybe a sip of whiskey might close the gap between him and the ladies surrounding him. All the men sitting between us just laugh.

        "No thanks, I'm okay!" Caroline smiles at everyone.

        "It makes you feel comfortable," he says, "like you're on a comfortable couch full of cushions." He lifts his right hand to the bar and shifts his weight. "And also, like you're about to vomit."
Black lips.

Poems are slow.

(Light Sleeper.)

I go back to where god is and warm.
I leave you behind, I leave you.
I leave you behind, I leave you.
I leave you behind, I leave you.

You and I shimmer, we expire.
There's no more kissing left, I'm too tired.
I leave you behind, I leave you.
I leave you behind, I leave you.

Your rings are here, in the dirt.
The moon's dim, you say, and it hurts.
It's too dark to see, we expire.
You turn and face me. I'm on fire.

I leave you behind, I leave you.
I leave you behind, I leave you.
I leave you behind, I leave you.
I leave you, I leave you, I leave you.
  • Current Music
    sparklehorse/ spirit ditch.
Black lips.

I'm Gold.

I just signed up for a fiction writing class. I'm so nervous! I'm terrible at writing fiction and it's been a long time since I even tried, so I'm not sure what to expect.