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Why It Doesn't Matter How Much Is in The Glass. [28 May 2009|11:33pm]


“He doesn’t love you.”


“Then why do you bother?”

She spun around on the stool and shrugged her shoulders. Her dispassionate eyes suited her apathetic tone. “Maybe I just do.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She looked down the bar at an old man hunkered over a whiskey sour, staring hopelessly into it like he was search for something. “It’s better than nothing, that’s what it’s supposed to mean.”

“But it isn’t significant.”

“But it isn’t nothing.”

She grabbed her messenger bag and dropped a couple bills next to an empty glass, looking back down at it. “You know why that glass is empty?”

“Because it’s not half full.”

“Exactly. Something isn’t empty or half-full because it’s missing something. It’s that way because you drank it, which is better than watching it sit there staring back at you. It doesn’t matter what it’s half of if you never drink it.”

“I see.”

“No you don’t.” She said, grabbing a tattered brown jacket. “But maybe someday you will.”

Then she sauntered freely out of the bar. But that lack of weight on her shoulders was also because she had nothing to weigh her down. I didn’t know whether to pity her or applaud her.

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Finding Atlantis. [06 May 2009|07:46pm]

This is a short piece just to get me started in writing for the summer.


The wind had already picked up the afternoon's stragglers and dusk was threatening. I crouched in the sand and drew terrible pictures with a stick. They looked like chickenscratch to the discerning eye but they were works of imagination. I smirked at my work and looked at the gently stirring water, debating, searching.

Behind me Mother rolled up a wrinkled, shabby blanket and picked up her ladie's magazine, the one that would tell her how to be beautiful, how to get the ideal man, which skirt to wear to that interview, all of the staples of life. She slipped on some sandals, the ones that gave her blisters I think, and slid her petite body into a jean jacket. She wanted to go back home to her telephone, her tv, and her date. I wanted to stay.

The tips of my pigtail braids were damp and my hair was beginning to curl at the ends, the few pieces that she had left unmanipulated when she pulled and twisted, combed and yanked. I sighed, feeling the edges of my feet melting into the sad, watching the sand gradually sift into the ocean, becoming a part of something bigger than myself. I didn't like beaches in general- all the glamour of swimsuits and tanning, girls trying to look gorgeous under their umbrellas, guys trying to look buff spiking their volleyballs. Then again I was young but something told me that many of the things I didn't understand at eight I wouldn't understand even after decades of exposure to them. But this, this I understood. Solidarity. Peace. True beauty in between the rocks, thriving off the quietness, the pending storm.

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Saying Goodbye to Prince Charming. [22 Mar 2009|05:42am]

I've never understood why but it always rains at funerals. Apparently God saw a movie cliche and decided maybe the filmmakers had a point. I don't really know but if I was going to make an ass of myself, that'd be a great assumption to go with. Not that I mind being the ass. It generally works.

I felt like the ass that day. Everybody was crying, tearing up, bawling, breaking down, saying their goodbyes and I was fine. I'd given a rotten eulogy and thrown up a time or two but that was nerves about standing up in front of people. I'd always had trouble with that. I meant nothing in his eulogy. Not a word. The phrases and sentences maybe my mom and aunt meant but they never understood him anyway. Their minds, like those of so many humans, were crowded with love. His death wasn't about him no longer living or watching his child grow up. It was the whole "For whom the bell tolls" complex. They were lamenting at their own immortality as well as the loss of the future experiences THEY would have had with him and the love THEY would have felt. Love can be a very selfless thing but at the bottom of it, self is the root word, which is why I didn't feel anything but the rain poking at my exposed patches of pale skin in contrast to the black. I didn't feel anything.

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Travelling Dirty Roads. [12 Mar 2009|09:47pm]


We were sitting in the car, my mom, my brother and I, and we were taking him to work. He had lost his license years prior through some bad decisions and was working at the local factory for the time being. What he did I don't pretend to know. It was a job he would keep for a month or two and that was all there was to it. I was majoring in Biochemisty at a college four or five hours away and rarely came home, which was good because it kept us and our animosityu towards one another from being in the same room or car too often. But of course it had to happen sometimes.

He was sitting in the car bugging mom to buy him cigarettes and I was staring out the window looking over the town that used to be my home. Mom caved as she always did, adamantly refusing in the beginning but it was always a given that she would give him what we wanted. I was the baby by birth. He was her baby by selection.

We got his cigarettes at some rundown gas station off the main drag and turned down a road full of pothouses, empty fields, and abandoned houses. Sitting on its broken throne under a pile of grey, polluted clouds was the factory. It didn't take me long to figure out my brother worked in the land of promise.

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When the King of the Hill was a Pagan. [12 Mar 2009|12:44am]

The hill above was a steep one, covered in dead, brown brush. The gnarled, bare trees with trunks the color of a harsh gray crawled up the hill, growing denser in their efforts. We stood there, at the bottom, throwing sticks into a creek, hoping they would drown. Naturally they should float down with the weak current but these got stuck in bits of muck and debris, forming their own graves.

"Nah I wouldn't go up there." My brother said, throwing another to its demise. He brought to his lip a piece of paper rolled like a cigarette filled with the bits of tan and golden bush and grass we had collected. We were smokers now. I was too since yesterday when they broke my jumprope using it as climbing rope.

My cigarette hung limply along my gumline, the make-shift tobacco having fallen out since I hadn't rolled it tight enough. As the spit wet the paper a nasty taste formed in my mouth, like the taste of play money as mom said, whatever that meant. Didn't have the same effect I suppose but it looked alright and that's what I needed to be to be in the club, one of the boys. My jeans were rolled up to my knees so they wouldn't get wet and there was mud on them from where I had fallen earlier. I scratched one leg with a dirty foot and tried to wince as thoughtfully as possible up the hill, like a cowboy at the horizon.
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If only. [06 Mar 2009|11:38pm]


I agree. It is a HUGE if and that's why when I wrote that I knew people were going to say well... you know. I think it is a huge if and I think people are wrong in the way they depict God and portray his manner so I think that if is invalid but, if  it isn't, then my opinion still stands.

If that makes sense.

I do too. I used to, when I was younger, get frustrated when other people didn't see my pov but I think as I have gotten older I have matured a bit and now at the ripe old age of 19 lol, I can talk about it as intelligently as I am capable and not get upset.

But any time you ever want to talk about one of those things, I love it too so stop by =].

Ha thanks that is quite the compliment. I won't spoil it for you then but if you ever want to know I'd be willing to tell you.

A few people said that actually. I was surprised. And thank you =].

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I'm being stupid...but it's okay. [18 Jul 2003|03:20am]

I'm so big on smell...I just hugged Aric and I love the way he smells. I've recently been talking to this guy Vinnie and I really hope he smells good. I could never smell Ben because I was too nervous around him but Vinnie. He's so cute...I really hope he smells good.
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Harry Potter Fanfiction [16 Nov 2005|01:30pm]

[ mood | pensive ]

Hate You, Hate Me - Chapter 3

Chaptered Story - Subject: Harry Potter - Rating: T - Category: Angst/Romance/Fantasy

I hate you, Hermione. I hate your hair, your friends, and everything about you. But the thing I hate most… is how much I love you…


(Previous Chapters)

(Master Story Links)

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promo ♥ [10 Nov 2005|09:49pm]

hope this is okay...

Image hosted by Photobucket.com
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hahaha [20 Jul 2005|09:41pm]

You're so gorgeous I'll do anything
I'll kiss you from your feet
To where your head begins
You're so perfect you're so right as rain
You make me
Make me hungry again

Everything you do is irresistable
Everything you do is simply kissable
Why can't I be you?

I'll run around in circles
Til I run out of breath
I'll eat you all up
Or I'll just hug you to death
You're so wonderful
Too good to be true
You make me
Make me hungry for you

Everything you do is simply delicate
Everything you do is quite angelicate
Why can't I be you?

You turn my head when you turn around
You turn the whole world upside down
I'm smitten I'm bitten I'm hooked I'm cooked
I'm stuck like glue
You make me
Make me hungry for you

Everything you do is simply dreamy
Everything you do is quite delicious
Why can't I be you?
Why can't I be you?
Why can't I be you?
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read [01 Jul 2005|10:44am]

i hate it when i can't tell what your thinking
(too complicated)
your eyes give off this most angelic glow
(and you can't see)
i want to scream a million reasons why
(can't find the time)
i can't decide
(its the fake inbetween)

wanting what i know is never mine
(so typical)
seeing what no one knows is there
(you call it out)
hiding that i know i'm not devouted enough
(makes two of us)
its just a crush
(but i can't do without)
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[29 Jun 2005|02:02am]

Ah, hello! I've found this site, and joined, and have a story! Well, a version of a story already made.
La Bella Dormiente, or the Sleeping BeautyCollapse )
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crash and burn [26 Jun 2005|07:09pm]

[ mood | disappointed ]

i talk about my bitchyness
my will to live
theres nothin more for me to do

i may be common sensitive
another girl
but its not like i cant change

i hope you had your fun
cause you hit the target right
this just can't be what your like
but i accept nievety
i hope you find another one
i'm to drained for common use
i've taken your hook, your line, your noose
theres no new tricks for me

i know you wanted everything
got damn close
pulled every line

but i can hold one ace in hand
and walk away
partly satisfied

you never saw me crash and burn

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spreading the word [08 Jun 2005|07:32pm]

Monday the 13th is Fountain Day! (albeit 2005)

Clicky clicky!

Around the world, countless numbers of glamourbombers, culture jammers, poetic terrorists and more are preparing to tint their local water feature an appealing colour or fill their local fountain with mountains of bubbles in a wanton act of creative aesthetics that may only last for mere hours but will be a liberation from the grey of the concrete cages we build for ourselves.
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somethin' about someone. [03 Jun 2005|11:31pm]


This is a vignette sort of thing. Please tell me what you think. =)

enjoy.Collapse )

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[22 May 2005|03:44pm]

Apparently people aren't really updating in this community anymore, but I like the look of it, so I've joined anyway.

I'm new. Here's a quick story.

Wings to Match.Collapse )

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The May Blitz [13 Apr 2005|01:39am]

Writer like a short story?

Writer like a challenge?

The May Blitz
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black night...java style [30 Mar 2005|02:52pm]

[ mood | sigh ]

"i will never tell you i love you...i can't do it anymore, you'll just have to figure it out by yourself"

as if by my own imagination you came back
but as merely a figment
you place me ahead of yourself...sometimes
you devour me with your eyes
what is this?
this is no love
and will never be
am i an object of affection
i'm not your only one
you cannot promise yourself to me
you will no longer belong to anyone
for fear of rejection i cannot tell you of my love
you would never respond
still i wait
for a call that would never come
i look for you
in a place you will never be
yet your never too far away

cross my boundaries
bury my soul
tie my arms
and take me whole
lick my neck
and spit me out
you are a black knight

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[12 Mar 2005|09:51pm]

Come join nine_muses_. It is based on the concept of the nine muses, Calliope, Clio, Euterpe, Erato, Melepomene, Polyhymnia, Thalia, Terpsichore, and Urania, and we're in hardcore promotion mode. We want to build up enough members to start voting on applications, so if you want to join, that would be great.

You simply post your application (once the mods have given a "go" on applying) and the members vote on which muse you are! If you'd like to check out the userinfo page, there's a little bit about each muse and what she represents.

We'd love it if you guys would join.

nine_muses_. :)
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[13 Jan 2005|09:14am]

i miss your warm earthy eyes
and your John Lennon nose
and your rose-flesh lips
your skin
i ache most for your soul
that blue flame
dancing wildly in your eyes
and the next time i see your angelic face
and feel your fingertips, smooth as pearls on my skin
i will capture it in a bottle
and keep it
my firefly
like summer nights forever

my poetry journal sunlit_attic
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