sweet slippery feelings

Oh, glorious weekend! Friday, Saturday, Sunday was a lovely beauty of a break. it felt like spring break. It felt like the beach.

Friday afternoon I left school and instead of running or playing outside I took a sudo-nap in the sunshine on the west end of the house with NPR trned on to a low murmuring and my dad hacking away out the pine trees that obscure our view of the now back sunsets. I talked to Todd and ran away to work where I resisted the urge to eat cake and hummed along to the all too familiar covers of Worm and Tater and the other guy...that plays, and is really friendly. There was an iced chai as tall as a baby and I drank it all! And slipped...hours and hours later after resurrecting my room into some semblence that it has not felt sent, forever ago... the drifted off into a restless sleep full of nothingness only to wake up early.

And I drove to Charlottesville! Where there were so many people and bebes and perros and couples with sweet gifts of mustaches and vinyl and hippie jackets, which I now have, thank you Anthony. There was righting to the world. Everything is set straight. There was also waffles at midnight and John Mayer hate-a-thons and bagels and beautiful harmonica music and not finding Kid Cudi shirts and dresses and schleming under cherry trees. Everything that makes me happy.

And Sunday I made a lime chiffon cake. Tell me that doesn't sound amazing? The preview for the new Harry Potter movie was on and I sat cross-legged on the couch eating my iced masterpiece. In proud defiance of any homework that school assigned me. I sat there sorting through pictures, wondering how I could take more.... I want more pictures.

Physical Life Science

When you were young and you didn't understand anything.

I used to think that electicity could flow through the air and charge electrical devices.

Sounds a little preposterous, I know. But think back on a memory or an idea formed when you were small, much smaller than you are now. Eventually science disproved it, took away the magic of being your own creator.

But, why?

It doesn't have to be that way. You can take anything you want and run with it, any belief, any idea, creation, speculation. Look at: religion, wikipedia, Leonardo da Vinci.

I think that electricity can still flow through the air. It's called sunlight. It powers the electricity on Earth. It gives us light. It's a lightbulb, electricity is light. It moves in waves of photons. It moves in waves. Waves are electricity. Water is electicity. Wind is electricity. The uneven heating of the Earth is electricity. The Sun heats the Earth. The Sun generates electricity. Light is electricity.

flowers

eat your mustard!

Buds

eyelash shadow
upon the speckled cheek
feathered there from the lazy layers
of cool daunting
spring sun

with your hair mussed up
curled along a winter's pale
shoulder

and the nude lips get pressed together
as you study the crocuses
poking pretty from the
brown ground that
scuffs up your new summer shoes

you
pushing the sides of your dress down
as the March breeze roars in
on a Sunday morning

smacking your gum
and giggling unconsciously
thinking about whats outside
your classroom's windows
swinging your feet
under your desk

the porch lights swing
from a Christmas season retired
jumping off the steps
and running down the driveway
trying to catch
the setting sun

and during the late afternoon
when the marmalade sky
sweeps down upon the bread of the land
your eyelashes will catch
the last sighing rays

APES

I found this while working on APES and studying the El Nino...

Scene Five
La Niña Delivers


Niño: Well, I delivered. When do you deliver?

Niña: Tonight.

Niño: Where?

Niña: On the Titanic.

Niño: On the.......Titanic?

Niña: You must know about the Titanic sweetie pie.

Niño: Yeah, yeah, I know about the sinking of the Titanic, and I know about the movie, but I haven't seen it yet.

Niña: We'll recreate the big sex scene from the movie. It takes place in the back seat of a car in the cargo hull of the Titanic. After that, we'll play the roles of the movie stars until you find your rightful place in the Sea.

Niño: Done deal.


This is as good as Spanish soaps.

What is with
your LOUD vernacular?
spoken in some jarbled speech
using semblances of BANG and BOOM
rolling out your mouth like
a chopped off tongue
eyes widen
whenever your teeth chomp out
GNASH and ANGRY
why so loud?
spit it out
out, out with it
roll in it
BURN it down like an old
movie script
by those movie people
in the movie place
I consider
FAILURE linked with
HATE
and
JEALOUSY in correlation
with LOVE
all these LOUD words
taking up more space
IN ALL CAPS

what is with,
your loud LANGUAGE?



~~~~~~~~~~~~




SPLASHING
IN
A SORDID
SEA


THAT'S
ALWAYS ME

Spring!

I've got flowers in my hair.

Out and About

I was thinking about what to write about... about myself, maybe.

A while back I said that I never fill out those About Me sections. This is true. I never know...exactly what to put in there. It's like saying "sum up the infinite things you think about in a day". You can't, you just can't remember everything you thought about, your exact thoughts across the minutes and seconds and hours of a day. And, in exactly the same way, you can't sum yourself up briefly. Sure there are cool song lyrics and whatnots to put there that SOUND cool, but they aren't, they just aren't the same as a good description of yourself. A brief autobiography. A little bit of your own history, the only history that you can be an active participant of making. Every other history is just thrown off by random interjections and forks in the road of people and places. An About Me is, maybe, a little bit sacred.

The About Me is the cold desolate truth, where you find out about how tough your guts are. Can you put yourself out there enough? Can you define yourself briefly? Is it even possible? Will you make it out alive? Why are there so many questions?

There is the brief description....

Hi! My name is Kate Tillotson. I hail from Appomattox. I have a lovely dog, six cats, a snake, and two horses. I like pb&js and being competitive and blogs and the art of espresso.

But even then, you don't get the whole me, the particular aspects and idiosyncrasies that define what I say. You can't get the proper picture. It is as vague as saying your favorite color is white. Technically, white is made up of all colors. You like all colors? Well, what the jibit am I supposed to judge you by?

The longer and incomplete version....

I dislike About Me's. So, when I first came to this section, I skipped over it, ran around, took a nap, and ate dinner before coming back. You'll pick apart this entry for sure. Who I am, what I like to do, weaknesses, strengths, yada. We all do it, and that's how I know.

I've lived in here my whole life. Some say the place you live doesn't define you, you define it. That's bull. I'm completely a product of my environment. Now that I have finally realized it I am trying to mold the place around me. Picking friends that fit me, being interesting, starting little trickling trends, I love doing that and watching it happen through a closed environment like my high school. I finally realized that you can do whatever you want after a certain point. It's great.

So for some of my activities, I don't do work, and I take up my time writing things. I...run, sometimes, and other times I play soccer or...I eat pizza, or I stay up late watching Scrubs. I shoot competitively, which is definitely a cool activity, not many people can say they do that for an extra curricular. I love to read, books, magazines, the back of shampoo bottles... I find other people's words much more amazing than mine can ever hope to be. I can atleast pay homage to them by reading what they put down, judging it, and reading it some more. I'm bad at small talk and i like pink dresses and action movies. I like looking at winter trees and jumping on the huge piano in F.A.O. Schwarz. I can't whistle or do handstands or pull off hats or touch my tongue to my nose. I'm scared of death and men in rabbit suits and cats with rabies and old people and losing my memory. I love yelling off mountains and being sucessful and the beach. The sea, I'm mesmerized and terrified by the ocean and space. How it is all infinite. I like graffiti and street dancers and unicycles and bicycles and tea. And velvet high back chairs and patterned tights and red brick houses. I love old plantations and fields of broomstraw and cedar fence posts and racing someone to my car. I hate bus rides to school and early morning breakfest and all you can eat buffets.

I like blueberries. I hate fireworks.


To you, that may have seemed like a satisfactory About Me, but as I was typing it I thought of so many other aspects.

So, I have come to the conclusion that while everyone else may think that you have summed yourself you may always believe that you have just begun. There's just so much to cover.

My mind's on shuffle

I walked outside without shoes on today and I didn't get cold. The thaw has started and it's contagious. There will be lemonade stands out soon. There will be ray ban wayfares and that permeating tanning bed smell in class. There will be dresses and headlights and short shorts.

I figured out it's not easy to run on a stomach full of starburst jelly beans and donuts. But it's okay. It's springtime. The smooth acceleration of the downhills. The not so smooth uphill climb. It all feels fantastic.

Right now I'm trying to force out forsithia blooms by cutting limbs and leaving them in the sun in our kitchen. It's one of my favorite smells. That and lilac and freshly cut cedar. I'm a sucker for flowers.


Yesterday at my internship there was a Kill Deer pair nesting at one of the hot water ponds. They sort of look like the sand birds that you see at the beach except with smaller, shorter beaks.

I cannot focus on school work, it is really really bad. But, I don't mind.

I'm in the need of:
Straffordshire Kiln Craft Cat Mug
Origami Paper
An iPod with a larger memory
A dress....or two
Warm hat
Sunscreen
new Vans, cause my other ones are pretty holey

Spring is Broken, Let Break Begin

Brushing the sticky salt from sun punished skin
pulling fingers through stiff curls
running down to the edge to lookout for the fins
waves pull and rip and unfurl

Seagulls flip by in white winged spirals
the sea flashes bright tips
and there are a million tan boys and girls
doing somersaults and back flips

Plastic buckets hold in the beach
and sand castles are under construction
left only when the tides come and reach
and wash away their foundations, total destruction

The quiet spell as the sun drops into the sea
and the cool night rushes in
salt encrusts itself into th denim of my jeans
as I play in the surf 'til its too cold to swim

The next day at daybreak I run on the sand
bare feet sinking into each mold
the sweat drips hot down my back, to my hands
I ponder if I have ever felt the cold

Long nights of watching palms in day glow
and flamingos bathing in the neighborhood canals
here the warm and heat never goes
the sun flicks in and out like television channels

Long nights of italian ice and bicycle tires
flourescent cantinas murmuring
tantalizing sweet heat of backyard fires
sunburnt skin and dresses fluttering

The springtime serenade of the surf
midterm siestas sprawled in the sun
schoolwork is boring when life has this worth
of gemstone skies and hot aquatic funs