I can't capture that dusty, upward traveling light that plays and swirls the grass, and comes from the West, as the sun is one massive tangerine, plummeting from the sky.
Its all bubbly and sounds like grasshoppers.
Its the halo outline of every living being and shines through every window of every house.

Afternoon magic, Sunday night, tragic?

Second week of school, a beauty, aye?
Already have had my first meet. No jokers, I haven't quite yet, so suck it. Hard.
Suprised my coach, taking it as a good thing. Just have to keep the training coming.
AHHHHHHH SENIOR YEAR!
Attended my first actual football game. Now that, that IS tragic.
Bittersweet.
And not in the way you would think.

Summer Love Tour

A title like that conjours up those days fresh out of high school when I took a trip up to the coast of Connecticut. O.o.

No but really, it's Prairie Home Companion...you know,

radio personalities?
Guy Noir?
...Dusty and Lefty?
P.O.E.M.?

Sigh.

Hopefully I'll go and watch them, real life version. Cause Lindsay Lohan....has a fire crotch, and that's just awful.

Today I cleaned out my car
and found

-a tambourine!
-a whole three yards of bubble wrap!
-my teal duct tape!
-frisbee
-shoebox
-more mardi gras beads...really, Katrina?
-half naked Megan Fox
-books
-more books
-Big Star CD!

More Music For The Fall Playlist-

Rill Rill- Sleigh Bells
Modern Man- Arcade Fire
As Long As The Grass Shall Grow- Johnny Cash
10 Mile Stereo- Beach House
Mustang Sally- The Commitments
Porcelain- Moby
Alphabet Aerobics- Blackalicious
When I'm With You- Best Coast (conjours trips to the beach in the 90's)
I Only Have Eyes For You- Summer Camp
Cheaters- Teengirl Fantasy
Here Comes the Breeze- Gomez

Hooks

And all the poems in my brain
are slipping
too sloppy
too floppy
ultimately too ugly
to adorn your pretty eyes here
the inverse of the type face
I see as you are
staring into
my soul!

They're here
melting sticky gum
thunderstorms
rainstorms
coughs and sniffles
shuffles feet
scoot scoot of chair
kids smoking cigarettes after hours
rustling of paper in a quiet room
full of people
acquaintances.

There's the black dance of birds
in the black windows, reflecting
a beautiful blue sky
just a horizon for the
dirty black pavement
mirrored twins walk along side
you stare,
they stare,
into the windows
of the ABC stores
and the blaring safety lights
and the night seems young, but
it has seen too much
too much already, for its age
but there is no sense in dieing.

It's the seasonal shift
a chemical shift
a birth of blue jeans
and scattered around
there's leaves
where there were none before.
Aye, but you hear it.
The beginning.

Up to speed

Polka plays in background at Baines.

My internet is down. So I'm here.

T-2 for the whole school business.

Felt like I was in some collegiate prison last year.

Now I feel like I need to kill someone to get back in.

POP POP!

Listening in about how America has been taken over by Satan. Duh, could have told you that. I think the Devil may be a great painter.

Had conversation with Jude about who his favorite painter is. Answer: "Have you ever been to the modern art museum? They make art out of cabinets."

"I dig modern art."

I'm searching for bigger and better music, but right now I'm just craving bluuuuueeeeegraaaassssss. Yessir!

Wrote a story last night about going to the coast. Total nostalgia coma. It felt good until my computer crashed. It's hard to be inland.

I hope you can follow this.

Sister has friends over. It's lonely here. People are employed at leaving and going away. I'm employed at drinking coffee (which I have taken back up, next thing you know it will be cigarrettes and the banjo) and paying taxes.

Finished Lolita, made me cry. You know you're a good author when you can make someone cry about statutory rape. Or it could have been a good seasonal cry, or the fact I haven't ran. Or the fact it is sad. What a drag.

Starting the Princess Bride, thinking about starting some design collages. I'm no good at art. But I can foist it (vocab word).

What if my English teacher found out I had a blog? She'd be hip with it. Same women has a bumper sticker in honor of Bruce Springstein on the back of her Jeep. I'm pretty sure I'm the only kid to get that reference in the last 10 years.

Shooting camp finished (looks at watch) Thursday, worthless watch, lots of fun, played some backyards water pong, or at least watched some. Got in a fight about Obama and how 'they be taken' all mah guns away'. Something like that.

Lanyards are for lame fools.

I'm employed at breaking necks.

Come visit. I'm going to hide and move in with somebody at their dorm room. I miss college kids.

You're right Todd, it's going to be a long year.

New art form (from the princess bride?), filling balloons with paint and the shooting them, for practice, I think fun, yes!

I'm addicted to my new Colt pistol, fashoooore.

Eh scup ayy

Can you give me a morning call?
I'm escaping these walls
and catching a train to San Jose.

He said, it's got a red caboose,
travels fast down to the border
and is steaming for the shore

If I can get out of this hole hell
in the morning hours
I can jump aboard real safe

Cause the beating police
carry a whopping piece
and I just can't share my brains

So call me up,
fore the sun comes up
and I can get a jump real clean

I've got hobo friends
be travelin' with 'em
and they lend me a helping hand

I don't know where I'll go
but if it comes to blows
I'll get off and head to town

I'll buy me a horse
take a straight course for where else
and take up weaving baskets

Ther' End.

Saw the worst decision driving down the road tonight. Ugly thunderbird and te smartest guy in school, driving around with a beard and one of the oddest and most sheltered girls I know. It's just a reaaalllly bad decision on his part. I hope one day he doesn't have to find out just how bad.

I find walking through the woods, and just walking in general, not running, helps put the whole writining fire in my head. That and my English summer course workbook "1100 words you need to know"

And with that I'm going to go watch the stars.

"Don't do anything risky"

Chris Brown!

This blog goes out to my besty for L1FE, Chris. I think you might be 8 years old now. And you're my cross country coaches' son. You'll probably grow up to be a terrorist. When you steal my frisbee and throw it at people, hard, it only makes us better friends. And when you say my name with your definitive lisp that they will have to correct through your whole elementary school career it makes me feel bad for you. So here's to you, spiderman. May you be climbing walls and jumping fences and running around like your pants have been set on fire by 3 hobos that just ain't got no fire wood. I raise my glass. Best fwennnndddsss. No seriously, my name is Kate, not Katie.

Gak!

I Missed You!

"Wow, you were growing older out there, look at your skin, you so tan gurrlll."
"Blog, I'm sorry to have neglected you!"
"Fuck you, did you go spelunking!?"
"...No."
"Then you have failed me and every word you type, we are now going to grow as limp as a clock in a Salvador Dali painting and fall off the page as you type... OOOOoooOOo nooOOO slipping. Now if your going to put down elephant shit poems you have to go eat worms off of Billy Idol's face to earn our trust back, the trust that you won't leave us so lonely and cold out where creepy old men can read your thoughts and actions...."
"I'm sorry! I thought about you when I was driving my car around with children under 16 in the back seat!"
"Not hard enough! Think harder! Let me see your toilet face!"
"I don't do any...."
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!"
"Ehr?"

__________ Blog's Back!____________________________