northstar

every now and then i get these urges to scribble my silly thoughts on paper. random scraps, napkins, envelopes, recipe cards, show flyers, magnetic poetry on the fridge...

i've been in one of those grooves lately. journalling on real paper. i've been nostalgic and reflecting on a lot of things present and past. there's been strange and different things going on. various thoughts, emotions and choices - some that are new and some that rear their ugly head from regressing. trying not to care... but realizing that i don't have it in me. im softer than i want to be but stronger than i think. i'm learning... feeling things out.. making mistakes... coping with life changes. i'm happy though. not so manic as before but more in balance than i've been in a long time.

i've been digging through my keepsake tin and my poorly assembled scrapbook. im a bit of a pack rat so i keep everything. i like remembering how i was in that particular space and time, how i felt about myself, my surroundings and the people who i was with, how i dealt with events, how i could have done things better. it sounds cheesy. yes... very cheesy.

i just get really overwhelmed sometimes... with love, anxiety, anger, appreciation, loneliness... ha.. im human. it happens. no regret though... i won't allow that here.

some things that i found...

some mine,
some not.

stoner scribbles:

...i'm stoned at this bar with my best friend and his band. its fucking surreal. i'm half hiding - partially because i'm having a hard time formulating thoughts right now, but i'm in love. i'm in love with the world. i love the company, conversation and companionship. i love what possibilities are ahead. MANIC...

...i liked that you grabbed my hand and kissed me on a street corner. i like that we barely know each other. it's a clean slate and there are no preconceptions. i am missing history though and it feels dangerous. it thrills me and defies the conservative girl who's shaking her head saying "this is probably a bad idea"...

...not much of a conversationalist, my head was muddled and confused. overwhelmed by sex and marijuana. very conscious and afraid of saying something stupid. distracted by the pretention at the next table...

...oh to be young and innnocent again. being fascinated by every new person who arrives at the bus stop. a brand new playmate every couple of minutes. everything is such an adventure and life is all about discovering and exploring. have we lost that urge to explore new things? are we too busy in our lives to discover the simplest things and be amazed at the texture of a juice bottle or dirty fake fur on little size 3 boots? i wonder when i start to travel will i be overcome by my senses? will i be blissfully happy when i surround myself in the sights, sounds, smells, textures of a new experience? like greg says "i want to run out of film so i have to sketch my memories or relive them with words that won't do them justice"...

magnetic fridge poetry:

her cry could eat love
they have said
the knife will sweat blood
ask the bed


the bitter ache of lust
manipulates behind drunk vision
fingering our languid void
tonguing the lazy language of our death


blah blah blah.
im not sure why i posted this. it seemed like a good idea at the time. the ex says im a radial thinker... so half of all that probably doesn't make any sense. oh well. it reminds me of something and thats all that really matters i guess.


would you please leave some stoner scribbles or fridge poetry or love letters or whatever. tell me a story. i want to read you.