sweet nothings

the roots us wallflowers dig deep into the ground, holding us still...

they break apart under the pressure of imagined pelvic thrusts - tucked and turned inward - afraid to be directed at anyone. in particular.

we bloom into the center of the room. fresh. floral. we reek with hot pink sex stink. it is that time of season.

this. is impending sexual peak.


it illuminates the horizon it sits on...

whispering promises of the best years of my life.

One Page Play:

The scene opens to a group of regulars at their neighborhood dive bar. They raise their shot glasses, clink, and drink. They walk stage right and leave Liz & Don seated at stools (center).

Liz looks longingly over her shoulder at the group, makes eye contact, smiles and waves. A few members of the group half-heartedly return the sentiment until Liz turns to face Don, and almost immediately, they start scowling and whispering.

Don, seeing past Liz, rolls his eyes. Liz slumps down in her stool and fidgets with her cocktail napkin.

Liz: They hate me, don't they?

Don: Yep.

Liz sighs and starts ripping apart her napkin.

Don: Get over it. They just don't know you very well.

Liz: That's the problem! I have hung out with these people for 4 years! They haven't even bothered to TRY to get to know me. (As she rants, she picks up Don’s napkin and starts shredding his too). It's like, just because I don't dress like a slut, participate in their incestuous dating circle, or buy everyone shots all the time, I am not cool enough to be in their little club.

Don: It's the Liz factor.

Liz: What?

Don: (annoyed) You know.

Liz: No, actually... I have no idea what you mean.

Don: It's just... you have this suspicious confidence about you all the time.

Liz: Suspicious?

Don: Yeah. Like it's there... but you don't even think you believe it.

Liz stops playing with the napkins. She looks down at her fingers.

Don: It's like there's this part of you that isn't broken...(he stops mid sentence, almost questioning whether or not to finish, before continuing)

... and

... it's annoying.

Don picks up his beer and chugs the whole thing.

Curtain.

Halloween 2008

Officially... this has gotta be the best costume of my life:


I even won "Scariest Costume" at the bar we went to.


Really and truly, I am thankful to have replaced last year's Halloween memories with this year's. I worked hard for this past weekend... and I enjoyed the shit out of it.

Why So Serious, Liz?

So I am kind of obsessed with the Joker from Dark Knight (like half the population), and decided that I would dress up like him as the nurse in the hospital scene for Halloween (again, like half the population).

But I was nervous about being able to do the face paint properly (seriously, google image it... there are a lot of shitty examples out there), so a friend of mine and I broke out the make up and some beer and went to work last night for practice.


What we learned is that I need to not go so far down below the eyes with the black, make sure my scars are glued on really well, and go a little easier on the red. With my hair frizzed out a little more, it's the perfect length (and the color sort of matches the red wig he wore), AND I found a dress that looks like a nurse's uniform with red accents. I even printed up a Harvey Dent sticker...

Yeah. I'm fucking excited.

processing...

i fear that if i speak it out loud,
everything will be cheapened
and end up N O T being
as good as it would have been
had they just known without my asking.

perpetual.
dissatisfaction.
... of my own design?

or is it
true to form
that the only satisfaction i find
is that time spent alone
exploring the curves
of my own intangible naked body?

that body of tingles
and big bang theory
that only reveals itself to me
when i s l o w d o w n long enough
to see everyone else spinning
their wheels
in a race that i never entered

they all sleep now
and i am almost relieved.
because in the middle of this night i don't have to pretend
that i am content
with them getting theirs
and me
just getting along...

Steps in the Left Direction:

It is very last minute, but this Sunday, I am participating in DC's Walk For Hope, a 5k walk/run to help find a cure for breast cancer. If you are able and willing, visit My Walk for Hope Donation Page and be my sponsor!

I have also started a life goal list on 43 things. There isn't much there yet, but I will let you know when I update it.

Thirdly, I signed up for Postcrossing again. I have already sent out my first postcard:



I've also been in contact with some long-lost inspiration... and I am SO thankful that they are still around :)

So Sweet, My Upbeat... Little Cliche.

Tick Tock...

you can't see them... but this clock has wings.

St. Mary's

Most of us never leap.
We just stand there staring.
Looking at all of the
what if's
should have's
and maybe not's.

Drowning in them.

Staying complacent.
Standing still.

Today, I watched Laura look back.

We visited a tiny, little lily pad she spent some time on a few years ago. I got to see her remember where she went and who she was... before she leapt again.

A year from now... I hope I can do something similar. I hope I can take someone that I care about home to see where I came from.

To see my first lily pad.

The one I still haven't leapt from.

I feel that sense of urgency now.

It always happens after a coffee cup conversation. Or finishing a book. Sometimes after a good movie... or new album, poignant oneword, night out, first kiss, walk through the woods, bad dream, intense rehearsal and even surprisingly, after a broken heart.

Right now, it might just be a combination of all the above.

Double Cherries

I still cannot believe that I found these little guys.

Let alone that I didn't break the stem before managing to take the picture (while driving, I might add).

And yes, they tasted as good as they look.

Cherries are seriously underrated...
one of the few foods that actually encourages spitting.

What Peter Pan Complex?

My second photo submission to Threadless was accepted!
Big ups to haze for taking the picture!!


I still have 5 or 6 other shirts that I need to work on, though. It would be cool to come up with some good staging ideas, get my brother to use his uber camera and actually make a play to get featured on the main page.

I like their little community. Full of art farts and emo kids.

Check it out for yourself!

Atypical Photoshoot.

It always starts out so innocently...

But then we start to get comfortable...

And then it gets weird...

Someone always gets hurt...

We lose our focus...

And before you know it...

All hell has broken loose. And we are useless.

oneword is back!!

See!

And in following... Scattered is up and running again.

Most of you already know the drill -- if you want to play the game and write on the site with me, just shoot me an email.

Scratch & Dent Dreams

... made of peanut butter ice cream.

Maybe It's Time...

My Brother, While an Asshole, Is Awesome.

I mean, just look at this mixed media journal cover he designed and made for me:


The graffiti writing is hard to read, but if you look hard enough, you can see that it says "dreaming among the starz."

The question is now, can I fill the inside with something as pretty as the outside?