pillango

a few things.

1. if i sent you a valentine, i may have (idiotically and quite inexplicably) written the wrong house number in the return address (to those that got an address). it is 252. not whatever else i may have written. just in case you want to stalk me.

2. grad pictures were taken today. my hair is all flippy. i'm not sure if i'm into it. pictures forthcoming. oh here we go:



3. i am exhausted. i spent all day running around, trying to get errands done. i couldn't even finish my workout routine. it is rather disappointing.

4. i walked home from downtown again yesterday. i am oh so hardcore. i got drenched and my feet were bleeding by the time i got home. well, one foot (left) was. a little bit.

5. who wants to make out? i know at least one of you will comment just because of this little addition.

6. here's a poem. quite appropriate one for today, actually.

Stephanie Bolster
IN WHICH THE POET'S GRADUATION
PHOTOGRAPH IS TAKEN

A poet, the photographer muses
when I confess, interesting. What will you
do? While he squints at the lens -
twisting a little me from blurred
to clear - I hold a fabric rose.

I've spent four years folded in books;
now I've fallen in this burrow
lined with badly-painted backdrops,
where a man will take me
in his choice poses and will not wholly

let me go. One summer I walked
by a lake, past a stranger who marked me
with his eyes and remarked: You will not
have a happy life. What in me
made me believe him? Look, here,

the photographer says, where my hand is.
Pretend you see your future
here. I turn to where the shadow
of his gesture seeps along the wall.
A little door appears. I have no key.

There, he breathes, as sweat runs
down my side beneath the borrowed robe.
Your future, he repeats, his finger
poised to click me permanently
here, why aren't you smiling?

7. skirt. bad photo. i am wearing boots but you can't even tell. bah.



i can't see my future either, beyond bordeaux. up until the end of that, it looks hilly and green. and wet.