i ask my self sometimes: how do i feel
the answer is a void
or, i don t know. its hard to say
i feel like something or i feel like nothing
a bit of cloth a sip of water
three cats, lazily
the radio all static in the other room
staring at the curtains when i should be sleeping
watching your little body breathing

getting anxious getting....angry?
the cats run around with their tails crooked
sitting on the floor trying to get a connection
little dreamer sleeping a few small paces away
cold cheeks and a warm belly
soft and softer
waiting and wanting is a usual scheme usually
thinking and planning other times
another funny winter
oh, california, only you
waiting on the mailbox again
waiting on the washing machine
telling time to stop or hurry up, don t know what to do with the day (to)day
a pretty little thing. something shiny
a different kind of feeling: its swallows in gulps and spits you out all coughing joy and black black eyes
the weariest sort of elation
more dazed in public spaces than ever before (maybe)
the brunette of dumb blondes at the grocery store looking for an avocado, post it labels.
avoiding eye contact and smiling dumbly fumbling with my quarters one-handed
and adjusting your little knit hat with the other

so this little school year is almost over.
and the little kids will go to kindergarten. or maybe come back. or perhaps soemthing else.
our little house is all white light in the mornings.
little musings. little missings.
last entry=aug 13 2009
august 13 2010 is a whole new creature in the making.
moment and momentum.
little pills and promises.
a dream thing sort of feeling.
and waiting.
clothes that don t fit and new sheets on the bed with a morning glory pattern.
falling asleep at nine o clock sometimes.
this odd little may full of sun and rain.

home bodie
what is the feeling that suddenly appears followed by eljay? i think it is called: stupid. probably
once again proving myself absent of the hope of myself where i am good and have discretion.
luckily helpfully selflessly kept by the worlds softest careless
too easy
it took two yrs now i finally have the job i wanted: preschool teacher
i want to move to a smaller house
sept first we say.
what else is there? there is nothing.
i ve managed to keep my tidy little houseplants living.
three cats.
refrigerator state equals clean
omi is crying, as per ussual.
this song is stupid and annoying.
i wish i was softspoken i wish i said things less. i used to be good at keeping my mouth shut. now i don t know what i m ever saying.
and then i m on the floor in the morning. with a soft white blanet downstairs.
i save all the flowers and they are dead and sometimes rotting. you also gave my a 2x2x2 box wth a chocolate. i saved that too. these are just confetti.
seven years long almost already.

the rain is back. then it goes.
nothing like north, however.
some things.
some///
a pile of cats. a crumpled bed
keeps repeating
so amusing
i m going to walk to the beach in a second

1.) what is the world
2.) loop of shoelace
3.) wet wet dirt
4.) not quite mud
5.) smell of driftwood. gasoline.
6.) ancient african dieties
7.) the facts
8.) a better way to breathe
9.) way out in the water
10.) excess
11.) snails.
12.) cross-section
13.) november
the last one is cloud hands.

toothpick tooth pick. a piece of string.

the clockworks. the waterworks.
don t eat the head. it contains the poison sacks.

pause. and for awhile nothingness was everything. i like to think...maybe not. we are winding down. voidward. spiral. cosmos. the wrinkles in a shirt.
the basics. i have many more words like this. from one end to another. abcs. omi is a cat who talks like a pigeon. i m a carousel who talks like a robot. spring is here, chickadees. in the dark again. the rain. the worms. a bird, maybe. cloudy cloudy sky. rains: all the time. love: the rain.
the wheels on a car too soon.
notes are notes.
the creeping feeling. like all over again. in a crowd. on the street.
looking out the window. people i havent seen in a while say, "hello." startles: some. and pause. smile.

happy fake new years

( previously. aka song for the ship wrecked part i )

continued...

agreement and support contend with adventure and solitude. if i could be two: audreyNorth and audreysouth.
i would bisect myself(ymself) right now and you would never see one of me again. at least at least when i am finally dead on a card in my pocket it says "bury me in an icecave" a final testament to happiness. preserved in ice and cold and dry. shoulder to shoulder with my best friends. whose blue tattoos in lines across their cheeks. bones and quills dedication to beauty: nose and ears. hold magic in dead fists are all like their deep deep eyes and rest.

the North understands permanence and the hydrologic cycle s alter-ego. in the south everything decays.

from aptos, ca dec. 22, 2006
here the hills look painted on the background of the sky with a fat wet brush on fet wet paper. clouds wrinkle up from saturation. in the North every mountain explodes your senses with sudden-ness. making enormous impact on absolute reality.that s it

--------
enough is enough is enough. i am moving so to hell with complaints (is or is not a question) it doesnt have to be permanent. the dead are not dead now who the hell said it? i dont know. but i guess i can be in love with redwoods all over again?

it feels like the only thing. i don t know why. i think amanda shares the sentiment, the inclination North. in the bright compass of my heart there is really only one direction.

what eager eyes you have. the quality of light up here is so different. strange. intesnse in long strips like ripping an old white bed sheet. (it satisfies).

pervious entry to be continued...later. i hadnt gotten to the good parts yet. i guess, when you decide not to go to school it happens for good. beucase i just tried registering classes and i m a million plus 12 on the waitlist.

finsish what youstart i guess.

or stop.

since i ve been back i havent had the heart to get out of pajamas or the bath. the world is too much for buttons. shoe laces. lunch.

i am drawn to the North like nothing else in my life. in the world. i want ice to be my mode of l i v i n g. to take me away would be to conjure my puddle self. which is nothing but one step towards

evaporation

. which is suppose is a nice dream enough. but too entirely altering. i want to keep moving North. North until my heart beat is the word TUNDRA. tundra...tundra...tundra.... North until every breath i breath suffocates with the colors of the aurora borealis.

to comply with the imminent move south:

slowly steadily

pulls me apart into irreconcilable pieces. my pupils especially would travel past the atmosphere. to create distant black holes of longing a million light years away from the rest of my body

...to be continued

do you say vase or vaaaaaaas(e)? as you can see, i m not working to-night. livejournal has too much time on her/his/it s hands. i finally noticed. it was like a shock. as in: it is shocking. (it shocked me). 'everything is illuminated' is paused right now. everyone is gone friday-night-ing. something i ve never been good at anyways. i m dropping out of school again. the 'f' key tends to stick as in i had to tap it three times just then. my hair is what s been called a rat s nest but no rats have ever nested in my hair. this makes me think of these pen and ink drawing sthat have been popping up in popularity. i don t like them. these fafncy (rather: fancy) ladies with tall hairdo s full of birds [phone rings] i m watching the wall that we call "kitchen" reflected in the screen of teevee. i m sitting in the area of the opposite wall dedicated to desking. bye.

reflections in the eyes of a decapitated child is all over my mind.

i feel like a hum in space.