Monthly Archives: April 2011

breathless at four am (Originally for hitRECord)

fuck but you’re gorgeous
and i want i
want things that
are heavy and
warm and things i
can’t name so i
watch the space
between your fingers
which is, i think, where
everything begins and

fuck but you’re gorgeous
with the delicate insides
of your wrists where i
kissed there as a
place mark, it was a
flag i planted when i
pressed my lips
there and now it
hums through your
veins saying i
was here, i
was here

(Originally posted here)

Letter to a Kid, Unsent (Originally for hitRECord)

The thing about you, kid – can I call you kid? – is that you’re fucking heartbreak from start to finish. There’s nothing that hurts more than watching someone grow up. It’s like, you ever see a little kid touch something out of the oven for the first time? It’s really hot, and they burn their hand, and when they cry it’s like they’re betrayed, like they can’t believe that pan they trusted hurt them. It’s like that with you every time the world betrays you, only you’re full-grown and I can’t help but think you’re just a kid, fuck, you’re just one big goddamn kid.

See that’s what makes you so stupid-beautiful, is that you never grow up. Like you can’t, or maybe you just won’t – maybe that’s the secret, you refuse to, and fuck what your body and physics and the whole goddamn world is saying. You’re Peter Pan, you’re Superman, you don’t have to obey the rules like everyone else. It makes it hard not to love you, all broken open and raw and reckless, makes it hard not to want to just hold you close and hurt anything that could hurt you.

(Read more…)

Touch (Originally for hitRECord)

When you’re a twin and one of three kids, it’s inevitable your parents come up with superlatives to define you from your siblings. I was a lot of things; the verbal one, the stubborn one, the funny one, the littlest one, and (and this usually surprises people) the cuddler. I was the touchy-feely one. I needed to be all up in everyone’s business, climbing in their laps, I needed to be brushing out my mom’s hair and beating my brother to be picked up by my dad when he came home. And I made him pick me up even when I was way too big and his back was way too busted for it to be a good idea for either of us.

I say this is surprising now because I’m pretty much the opposite of a physically affectionate person. I suppose I am in relationships. At least, I was at 15, which was the last time I was in a relationship, but these things change. What I do know is that while plenty of other girls would drape themselves over each other and hug as greetings, and still do, I’ve never been good at that, or liked it. Maybe it’s because I’m so very, very tiny and anyone who hugs me inevitably makes me feel a little like I’m being smothered. Maybe it’s because I’m so jumpy and sensitive. Maybe I’m just a closed off person. I just don’t really do touching unless it’s my parents, who I still hug a lot, or my siblings, who I hug if they’re leaving for a trip or something. Even my best friend, who I may as well be related to, only ever touches me when she’s having an utter emotional meltdown, and that’s not just because she’s all repressed and WASP-y.

The thing is, the instinct to cuddle never really died, just because I stopped doing it. I really just stopped feeling right doing it. I stopped feeling okay with requesting hugs from my parents several times a day, I got too big to fit in laps, I started being self-conscious about where my boobs went and if something was inappropriate or vaguely sexual, and I just stopped touching people. It wasn’t tragic, or at least, not any more tragic than adolescence inherently is (which is still pretty fucking tragic), it just was. It just is.

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Hawaii Five-0 – Mo’ guest stars, mo’ problems (Originally for CliqueClack TV, Co-Written with An Nicholson)

It’s been a weird sort of week for me for a lot of reasons no one cares about, like my computer imploding. But one super-weird thing about my week was definitely Hawaii Five-0.

Normally, when I tell people how much I love Hawaii Five-0, I get a lot of incredulous looks and raised eyebrows, and I’m forced to explain that it’s really a great character show that’s only the vaguest of tributes to the original and is nothing like a normal procedural drama, and how great the acting is. It’s one of those subjects that people walk away from discussing with me a half hour later kind of dazed and wishing they’d never brought up in the first place.

But this week, I felt like I was watching a completely different show. The writing was weird, the characters seemed inconsistent, and P. Diddy (Puff Daddy? I can’t keep up with his moniker of the week)… well, let’s just say it’s lucky An was up for a little back and forth she said/she said to sort through this mess of an episode.

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