Talking with Noah

I am looking for the spider web.
I am uncovering the places of earth
And every alien touch is covering me.
Slowing my body to the oceanic lull.
I am finding the strings of the abdomen,
They are white and tied to the earth.
Netting a home of the spiderweb,
The spiderweb frozen to her.
She is the Mother of Godesses.
She is the Titan of Ice.
And slender her scepter that raps crystal splinters
It bore through my heart here, a hole.

I am searching the Earth for the Spider’s Web.
She is the wearer of her.
In continuous space I am infinite.
And gold thread is the barricade for the Sun.

Dear Reader(s?),

I have a four day weekend. I am on Day 2. I am so happy.
Never Have I Ever been so comfortable.

Alta and I went to Evill 2 c Rachel last night. It was above and beyond the best evening in a while. Lets just say, Karaoke never felt so good. I really think I might own a Karaoke Bar. I would name it Song Shoppe. Or DrinkSynch. I would decorate it all White with mirrored stairs and stages all over. There would be golden microphones hanging from the ceiling, and fantastic prizes and Hats.

Rachel just got her hair colored, it looks good. I think she should go ahead and get Blonde already tho. She wants to anyway, why wait?
Their apartment is so comfortable 4 sum reason, I love it. I hope to go there 2night.

I was on the train last week, and sum Gay Whore was standing right next to me w a fag hag. He had gelled back hair and faggy flares and pointy shoes. And we were standing like less than 12 inches from eachother and he’s all “Omg, I am so over skinny jeans. Like the guys at my subway stop all wear those skinny jeans and then I saw these guys and I was like omg those guys look great, they were dressed just like me in flares! Fuck your skinny jeans, I love my flares!”
And I was all, Holding in my laughter.
And then I said something about my purse 2 Sylvie or Alta, and the guy was all
“God, do you have to be that gay?” talking to his friend about Me!
;p
I had to take that opportunity to ask Sylvie where I put my Lip Stick.

Dear Reader(s?),

I would like to start this entry by saying omg totally sorry bout bein a lazy betch! I have been like not writing blogz and all that. I know that I have at least 4 loyal fans, and it is my responsibility to feed them, as the Vampire’s Slave must feed their blood to the Vampire. I will be writing at least 2wice a week now.

Firsties let me update you on my Life. I have moved to Greenpoint. I am living with Thomas Shriver. We have the most amazing little apartment and its gonna b crazy gr8 to live here.

I have been reading Anne Rice. I just finished The Vampire Lestat, which is Book 2 of The Vampire Chronicles. The first being Interview With The Vampire. I have to say that as I came to the end of the second book I realized something. I am an evil Vampire demon bitch. Or at least my eternal soul is. Vampires are so cool, and I wanna be one. Although I don’t think I could live with myself if I were murdering people left and right just to suck up sum yummy blood. And Im not gonna b sum pathetic Vampire freak who sucks the guts out of frogs and dead rats and shit. But I am feeling ever more gothic and creepy. I didn’t know I was gothic before, but I am. Aren’t we all just waiting to bloom into Ancient flowers of DEATH?

I have become fat. In my happiness and comfort I have become a fat person. I despair joy. Depressed people are skeletal perfection. What have I done to suffer this blubbery existance? Whos going to touch me if I look like a puffy log? I am just another Jovial bloated Santa Claus distributing my bounty of love to the people of NY. Unfortunately I’d rather be dead sucking the zero caloric blood of the innocent than helping people while my reflection shows the satisfied maggot I have become.

Oh well, I will just have to worship satan more and surely the great dead thing will send me bountiful skinniness from Hell.

On that note I will be going to pull at my stomache for 45 minutes.

x zero x zero

Noah

Velvet Bow

Soon, I will join the wondering birds
And the cherished trials of wandering firsts.
I will set my self upon the mighty wind,
The world will turn its face and then, I
And all my many hope and powerful dreams -
Carried away to the breast of the future,
I will sew myself through the velvet of time
And God will wear me, tied in a bow.
I will join the future forecasts of summer night,
And shower the world in dim heat.
My orange husk dissolving against the cool cut grass
And the flickering flame
That burns in the heart of the beasts.
Everywhere everyone will watch my rain,
And those glass gifts will splinter in the most welcoming way.
Hands will catch me, and bathe my gifts with their fingers and necks.
Wearing me the world will turn the hopeful blue I have melted to.
In the open universe where I will burn,
God will hold me in his black arms.
And that empty vast space
Will be crowded with infants and others like me.
There will be no anger to boil in veins.
No blood marked by shame.
Or bodies grieving regretful and worried.
When I churn the tumbling planets and the spirit hangs it -
Dangling bracelets and comforting strings,
Adorning the sunset and the night,
We will all be warm and empty,
With each end passing and giving.
Tunnels of eternal peace.
To the silver tomb of grandparents quilts
And the eternal preserve of an artificial rose
Bound together in one great ship
That, tucked in, carries us home.
When I will join this voyage, this eternally departing cruise.
I will bend bound in cashmere and wool,
Velvet and linen and cotton and stone.
Taking the crystal hands of God -
I will stand before the master,
And I will open the wooden gates
And peel the chipping gold.
And we can all apply the new coat
And hand in hand paint the finish.

Dear Reader(s?),

Some lady with big purple freeze dried lips took my picture today at the Starbux in Northampton. I am home for the Holidays, and happy to be so. However I am leaving in like 5 hours, cuz duh I have 2 work 2morro. The lady really liked me hair. She told me I was “So Cool”. She wasted about 10 real minutes of my life waiting for her windows dos pc phone to delete a picture so she could capture me. I rlly am not such a jerk I dislike those who admire me. But she her lips were ripping apart and there was a large black unidentifiasble object in the corner of them. It was a) a mole or b) a collection of dead skin and waste. I only insult this fascinating mouth issue because of her annoying ability to shamelessly interrupt a private conversation for ten true human minutes of my life with personal questions. Also she had to get at LEAST 1. picture of my hair 2. picture of my “tights” (just because I’m not wearing sweat pants doesn’t mean I’m wearing tights) and 3. my shoes.
Anyway I didn’t rlly care, just needed to get that out there.

I saw a girl on the bus ride here who got me thinking. And forgive me for being so harsh on the unfortunate looking, but I thought what I thought, and I was VERY tired and irritable. Or perhaps I have a wicked soul. But when the pig, er hog ahem Girl, walked onto the bus I gasped. Be it she Was overly fat, that is hardly the issue. I am not shocked by Overweight people. I am shocked by people who have the misfortune of having the facial parts of pigs growing on top of their human heads. But there are a surprising ammount of them. I am sure any of you people reading have seen these pig people. They have wide up turned fat piggy noses. And small beady darting eyes. Pale dull chapped skin and fine frizzy birty blond hiar. They always have an attitude and they wear long bubble coats. They like big back packs with thick straps. And water bottles. I prayed to Jesus that he would save me from 5 hours next to this creature. And he brought me just what I wanted, a boring plain girl who reads.

I would like to now take this opportunity to apologize to the piggy girls, because honestly you’re not the weirdest looking people out there. Some people were born with horrible monkey ears that shoot out of their head like freakish leaves.

xxxx

Dear Reader(s?),

The Holidays are Approaching. That usually means a lot of retards fighting in front of meat. But this year, I think it will be different! I am super excited to go home and see my family. It will be nice to get out of New York, and back inside Western Mass.
I don’t understand the feverish need to shop after the Holidays. I feel sleepy and quiet the day after ThanksGiving. EVEN if I didn’t, I wouldn’t wake up at 4 a.m. for the Wal Mart Blow Out Sale. I would hire someone to go there FOR me. But people are just so addicted to purchasing that whenever it is decided for them to go, they destroy their natural sleeping patterns and foam @ the mouth. I say screw you! Stupid. No way am I shopping on BLACK FRIDAY. And isn’t that a little Dramatic for Retail? I hear Black Friday and Gothic trees are bleeding human organs over writhing limbless children. Not a nation wide Sale.
I have little to no interest in standing in opposition to my brethren of America. If we aren’t United then, then, What Are We? So I will try to join the spirit. I will do All of my holiday shopping on that day. And I will throw up tofurkey on clearance wracks all over the city. But I refuse to go shopping the day after Christmas. PLEASE. Why must returns be made the day after Christmas? Isn’t the last place you want to be the day after Christmas in a Mall?
I’ll be Photo-Documenting my Thankful Giving this year. So, if you’re interested in a PERSONAL NEVER BEFORE SEEN SCRAP BOOK of Sexy ThxGvng, check me out.

Dear Reader(s?),

Holy Cow. So anyway, here is a picture of ME at Bedford Avenue on Election Night.

I know, I know. I am Heavily embarrassed. It is Highly unbecoming to be photographed chanting. I have no excuse other than the fact I was overwhelmed with Happiness! and American Pride!
A friend of mine noticed this picture of me on Brooklynvegan.com! Altho that seems to be a pretty touchy subject there. I for one am happy to say, that I am not a Hipster. No. I like to think of myself more as a Jock. Much more like a jock, yes.

Anyway, thats Me! And I just want everyone to know, I plan on being Very Very rich soon.

Every morning I comb this Seashell through my Ivory hair.
I place it down on the mirror and it clicks.
From the Sun, light slices through my room..
And my cushioned vanity is a sparkling sliver under that ray.
I tap my slender fingers against a marble bench.
I slide my velvet feet into polished suede.
I cover and cover my powdering face.
And, slipping on my flannel cape,
I am trotting down the looming streets.
The concrete jungle is beeping and crumbles.
I finger through my sachel, and slide my slender fingers into my black leather gloves.
As soon as I locate my lucky dragon, we glide into the portal we hide in a Telephone Pole.
And once inside I see talking Gems, with eyes and Legs.
My padded hand meets this Emerald Paw, and soon enough
We are bounding down a ceramic avenue.
The glowing birds and the crystal fox chattering,
Remind me to sing.
By the warm pink wind my melody is floating through space
To places some visit only in dreams.
I cry when I complete.
The peach tinted tears evaporate and colour the sun.
As I blush, I am lifted up, high, up up up.
I am carried back to my parlor.
And, undressing to my romper,
I dip into my sunken bed.
As the oyster shell in which I rest slowly closes,
I warm myself to perfect sleep.
Tomorrow is a brand new day,
Who knows what song I’ll sing.

Dear Reader(s?),

My favourite part of the week is those two days when I don’t have to go to work. When I can have fun and do WHATEVER I want. Even more than that I like to catch a cold the day before my weekend, so that I am immobile and filled with thick mucus. I enjoy hacking up balls of green shit and saliva into toilet paper while i struggle to pause Private Practice. I find comfort in sneezing on prada. When I wake up every 2 hours and have to slowly wheeze through my throat to take in oxygen, I am thankful. Because HECK. The last thing that I want is to go to the Botanical Gardens. Or go see a Movie. Or have Lunch with Friends. I prefer the life less traveled. The one where your face drips sticky yellow liquid and when you speak you sound like a talking bouncy ball.

Other than the comforting novelty of having a cold and bundling up w warmth and movies, I am NOT HAPPY. I hate being sick. Especially on my WEEKEND. I really wanted to do something fun, but I just feel like poop. I think I’m on the up, but thats just what my cold wants me to think. So that I will go out for a jog, or visit a friend at work. And before I know it I have to hurry home, because I am feeling SICK. All I can do is drown my sickness with fluids and Mucinex.

People are gettin’ pretty amped ’bout this presidential election. And by Amped I mean to say neurotic and paranoid. I have to agree, it is pretty nerve-wracking. My favourite was when I got invited to join a group of Highschoolers who WON’T BE GOIN’ 2 SCHOOL IF MCCAIN GETS THE PRESIDENCY! All I can say is – What kinda point r u makin? Because I am Pretty sure the 99% of highschoolers that Aren’t Loser Bookworms, don’t want to be sitting in school listening to sum dumb teacher talk about Crap like division. So to threaten to stay home from school, as a highschool student, is like the hungry threatening to eat. Well, Big Surprise. We all thought you were hungry. Why don’t you do something people don’t think u like? Like…If Mccain wins, I am going to do one thousand jumping jacks. People would laugh in disbelief. But if you did it, then you’d have your point made. Unless you’re some sort of physical trainer, and desire those things. I, for example, am going to tattoo the Angel of Death on my Face, if Mccain wins. I know what you’re thinking- But Everyone Expects You To Do That. Which is why, if Mccain wins, I’ll shock you all and Not get that tattoo.

Dear Reader(s?),

He buried his nose into the bush that surrounded Peter’s Dirt Star. As he plunged his face into this brush of darkness, Peter recoiled with Excitement. Brian fondled the sack of bolts hanging just a taint away from his brustle with the Dark Diamond, and only to Peter’s Pleasure. For he gargled and mentally pleaded for more of that terrible touch.
Brian had calloused fingers, from hot high in the sky sunny afternoons constructing wooden structures people like to call houses. Brian found no pleasure in any work where he wasn’t about to split his Levis into four wet and thickly soiled strips. Construction worked well for him. He spent his days growing the density of his muscles, and the depth of their tan. He craved the taste of milk, and decided to get himself a boy of his own to drink from.
Peter was just what the Constructor ordered. A boy no more than the ripe age of 19, he was young and solid. Having grown up somewhere in Europe, Peter went to a boys school for dance. He was a practitioner of ballet, but an aficionado of powdered sex. As Peter experimented through his youth, he decided to travel to America when he graduated. It was through this journey that he began to master the fine art of being a Power Bottom. When he arrived in the United States, he was overjoyed by the large amount of men that lived here. Through a large number of encounters Peter finally encountered the one man he knew he could call his Soul Mate.
Brian purchased Peter for the promise of a good life. And so the Sow came to live with Brian. And every night, and every morning, they would play the chords of their rhythmic ballad. And when Brian and his heavy load covered Peter, the boy with his dripping hair and thickly coated smile would grin and caress Brian’s sharp jaw. On occasion Peter would find himself filled with erotic impulse, and dance himself to some field where Brian was laying a lonesome foundation under a gray sky. And, surprising him from beneath, the two would wrestle affectionately until the passion of those limber bodies and the sweetness of their sweat split the sallow sky. And the Holy Sun and His Burning Seduction would scourge the pale clouds to dust, burning the embers of every sad second in its wake. It would crack their beating bodies like a whip, until they beat into each other the meaning of their desire, and the dirty truth of their touch. Fire would ignite between them until Brian was roaring at Peter as he squealed for more.
The day would sizzle and the shade of night fall upon them. What once burned of raw and wicked passion, now cooled to a smooth and peaceful affection. And then as every night, carried home, Peter would fall into a lull of romantic sleep. Showing no mark of distress should Brian raise him from that slumber and pump his thick cock deep into the warmth of his cushion.