My favorite colors are: heavy night time rain clouds,
washed by street lamps, headlights, and people working
with their lights on, bleeding through curtains and blinds.
My favorite colors are smokey blue night clouds on
moony nights, and the colors of its craters
down on earth in a dark unignited car.
My favorite colors are the silver edges of a birch
tree and the brown of the almond eyes that stare
cut around their trunks.
My favorite colors are the white silvery plumes
of wet, snow heavy clouds at midday and the
color of wet gravel on a sunny day.
My favorite colors are the pigment of your lips
and the dry skin and the blood you lick away
self-consciously and the colors that peep
when you press them thin and close together.
My favorite colors are the inside of my eyelids
and the bottom of a coffee cup and
the period at the end of a vague sentence. 

That foreign rustle when you pull in for a hug. The coat is an extension of our limbs and our skin barely touch (except in the summertime and even then we are cautious around the fabric of t-shirts). I smile broadly like a crocodile so as not to feel nostalgic or to remember any smells in such a strange proximity, a stranger in the strange land in that crook of your neck. Maybe that's why you won't hug me? It's as simple as a handshake, a smile hello, but you politely refused. Stretched out arms are not your thing, I guess. I hug the back of car seats so as not to go out of practice. I cross my arms too much and I scrub hard at my collarbone. It's alright, if you do and if you don't.

I'm on fire but I'm so cold! My body breaks down into ashes, winding and swirling into nothing but two pieces of glass, eyes, with coal at the center. Layer upon layer upon layer of excuses and bullshit. I watched My Neighbor Totoro for the first time today and bawled by the end. I remembered reading somewhere how there were underlying death tones? It turns out there was a terrible case in Sayama involving two sisters but I only read up on it afterwards. It was an otherwise really beautiful; screaming and laughing loud so the bad spirits can't get you is one of my favorite parts of Japanese cultures. That and all that mysticism with Shintoism. Trees really do make you feel right at home. And that beautiful countryside and how sweet those girls were! Dying. I really liked Dakota & Ella Fanning's dubbing, too; there was another version online somewhere with whoever did the voice for Angelica Pickles but it was too cartoony. I wouldn't have cried, in other words. I'm reading a book right now on Printmaking because a girl I knew from high school had taken a course for it at BSU and said they expect you to know techniques beforehand. And fuck. And I got sassed once by an Irish artist on the street because he was selling rock posters and I, sick at the time, groggily asked him how he did them and he looked at me blankly, saying, "Printmaking." It was really embarrassing but fuck you if I have questions... I've been really lonely lately and trying to be productively friendly but all I get is silence and zombie feelings for Rick when I shouldn't. It's never good to fall for someone only because of Loneliness, the big smoggy L. It sucks for both parties. Of course, I had a dream last night where I was back at my old-old house and my friend had an imaginary brother that wanted to make out with me under a coat rack. I'm sleeping too much and growing increasingly cold... And I haven't read very much at all. It sucks.

I'll quietly saw away out of these ropes around my ankle myself, thank you very much. The inked ropes read "Loneliness". It rubs me raw when you think swooping in and tugging on them will fix everything- a burn, a mark, a knot, a trompe l'oeil. I want to work at the fraying braids with my own fingers and tug at the places bloated by sea water... I like your lips where they were but you look at me right in the eyes like a predator, side stepping the rope, not even noticing the coils. I'm not a villian if I let you go and go back to sawing at my own rope. (You're not innocent either but you're also too far to do me any good). Your own rope, your fraying line. I would have labored on it too, if you'd just stuck to making me smile.

I'm in love with Buffalo 66'! I kind of hate Vincent Gallo the more I'm learning about him but he is insanely good looking. And Christina Ricci! How perfect was she?! Her acting was a bit awkward and she was too saccharine, Stockholm Syndrome damsel but she was so sweet and sensual where she needed to be. Her eyeshadow and babydoll lashes never seemed too out of place. I love her figure too, soft curves, and swan-soft breasts. I'm secretly in love with Anjelica Huston too and if Wendy had only been Traci Lords - my heart would have died. "We have to look like a couple that spans time. Span time. Span time with me. Don't touch me." I really needed something neurotic and gorgeous like that after marathoning Dexter. (I actually saw some guy with ridiculous cheekbones like Michael C. Hall when I was meeting up with my mom after her job interview. I maintained eye contact but it was kind of frightening- so emaciated!)

Unfortunately, I just found out my debit card had been used vicariously by some buttmunch in Europe. It was stolen somehow and he/she used it on dating webites (cupid?) and a yearbook? They returned $98 and $30 here and there but I lost about $500. It's like a stab in the heart because I've been very good with my expenses lately. I was even going to gift myself with a pair of silver mary janes I've been eyeballing so I could pretend I'm tapping dancing in Buffalo 66. Then start on textbooks. But my fucking fabulous luck. I can't sleep at all tonight and I'm talking to the bank tomorrow. I'm working on getting a photography internship but I guess this is the karmatic gods' punishment on me for avoiding part-time jobs, only to half-ass my double art degrees...