17

That was an incredibly lengthy weekend. I feel the need to vegitate all day, so I must. Besides, I now have a copy of The Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy that I highly recommend to anyone with a soul. I didn't get it for my birthday, well maybe I did. I dd get a fantastic drawing kit for my birthday and a beach boys CD and a rose bush...don't judge me, I wanted it, and other lovely gifts.

A synopsis:
I got back from 4-H Congress Thursday, which was a horrible and boring experience exactly like last year. Then I slept.
Friday: A-Todd arrived
Saturday: Went to a Bluegrass festival, because I love bluegrass with all my heart. Again, stop hating. Was going to Rave but that was whack. Ran around Lunchburg in a tiara screaming "That's a Low Price" ...must remember that special occasions do not reason drug use
Sunday: Continued the camp tradition by hiking 6 miles around Holiday Lake
Monday: Visited Nature Camp

Late as usual

Hey My Birthday!

I was batman!

Light and Dark

The body is hung from the blue gallows of the sky. Strung up in its noose at the tip, at the almost breaking of dawn and then slung up into a lightening sky, it chokes all day. The orbiting Earth, drawing the great spherical head of the Sun up into the sky from its body of space. Raising it, for all the land to see, of its death upon the ground below, a show for the millions. The head is drawn down at sunset, and cut loose from the gallows, the body as a whole then resting below the ground. Day after day the Sun endures this death, rising from the dead at sun rise and falling back, it's death taking only a moment to the Sun, but a whole day for Earth's people. The eternal rise and fall and glaring rays of a dying man's face causes the masses to squint as they stare up into the noontime surrender, when the Sun's final breathe catches, deep within the lungs and the eyes close, slowly, slowly, across a darkening sky.

Tumultous Times; Turning Tables, Turning Tides

How do I even start to describe, the turmoil, the sudden, unexpected turmoil of Summer.

Something I vaguely remember about what I thought would be all
sweat
cabbage moths
long starry nights
love
tiger lilies
long gravel roads
lemonade
birthday candles
hands to hold
thoughts to ponder

Turned into some wandering loss.
Good night.
Won't be back for a while.
Come visit.
Soon.

serendipity

Psssshhaaaw

Goddamnit. Curse you gov school and all your insolent dog shitty hell.
I'm NOT going back next year.

Just for you that don't know, theres an oil spill going on. And, I mean, I go down to Florida at least once every two years, or somewheres close to that. And I want to go help!! Activism isn't activism unless you push for something and put time in. If things work out I'll be fairly close to the Gulf this summer, which by the way, if you never have been there, the water WAS gorgeous. Crystal clear, wade out for yards, drop dead gorgeous. And now it's all about as wasted as one drunk dead man on a motorcycle with his head half shaved off onto asphault. I'll be down in Texas, which is going to be so itching close, and I want to DO something about it.

For activism see also:
The Cove

Talk about a mind fuck-
Tarintino and Kubrick movies back to back

The second day is only the first.

So, school is all over. And here I am, watching Bruce Willis with Karen O's twin, racing around on a chopper. So I've decided to run this summer, and to make things different then...then before. In about two weeks my summer will be over for about a month and a half, and I want to enjoy what I have until it's done. I need ideas on what to do. I have a couple ideas....

I need:
my first slurpee
a motorcycle ride
run Percival's Island
watch Fast Times At Ridgemont High


but right now,
that's all I have.

Sittin on the Dock of the Bay

Can I expect the world to hold on its turning
never a second breaks
without new breaths unfurling
every second aches
It is etched in the glass I drink from
the lip's residue of glazed food
ticking upon the sun
the trickling sands I view
Summer, expendable, dwindling, reaches
a new forray into sublime
and bayside a preacher preaches
a new meaning to ripe time
There's a boat to carry those
spending the time life bought
with fleshed dallores
and here we keep the catch we caught
Each of us sailing an impenetrable sea
passing hands against the glaring sun
we're all ripe from the breeze
and we'll sink when we're done

Foreigner in a Native Land

Hi...
Smacks gum. Hi.
I'm here for my appointment.
She flips through her book, Name?
I lean over the counter and whisper it to her, watching her eyes as the cognitive gears whir.
You? In the papers?
Shh. Please.
Yeah, sure, I thought they had you nailed. Everybody in the town has been searching for you. I didn't recognize y...
Yeah. Can I go in?
Let me tell him your in, you aren't going to do anything are you?
I stared at her, I'm innocent, I gave her my innocent smile.
Okay..... be back in a second.
I waited, sitting beside a businessman.
He watched me.
I watched him.
He looked at my legs, then looked away nervously.
I picked up a magazine to hide my skirt.
He looked back.
Watch it kid.
What?
Shhh, holding a finger to my lips. It echoes really easy in here.
What?
I started reading an article in the magazine, and he stared at me.
I guess we're all in here for the same reason.
I felt the wh... forming on his lips. Then it registered.
Yes.

Except.

What?
Nothing.
Good.
You look familiar?
...Not a smart move.
No I don't.
Okay.
Okay.
Door opens back up.
He'll see you now, quickly.
Bye kid.
Whaa...
Don't bother. I smoothed my skirt back over.

He was standing in the hall.