Do You Suspect I Shower Nude...

junipers

2005-06-02T03:00:37Z

bacdafucup!

deathbyinnuendo @ 2004-11-22T03:55:00

2004-11-22T11:56:40Z

deathbyinnuendo @ 2004-05-29T02:15:00

2004-05-28T09:11:59Z

deathbyinnuendo @ 2004-02-28T23:51:00

2004-02-29T06:51:47Z

...

deathbyinnuendo @ 2003-12-20T22:13:00

2003-12-21T06:17:37Z

deathbyinnuendo @ 2003-10-20T23:43:00

2003-10-21T06:43:49Z

oh yeah.
and i was in some film.
and a newspaper.
here is the webpage.

it has a trailer.
but so do I
(don't fear the reaper)

I am the human version of the revolving door.

2003-10-21T06:34:48Z

she has no job and no
money
and many many bottles of whiskey
and though she does look nice in her clothes
there's really nothing much more to it,
except for some witty remarks attempting to cover
the fact that she has
rubberbands for nerves,
a spinning compass for a heart,
and a corpse of a liver

all these voices she cannot understand
they are like tight ropes
and she cannot balance on them,

drama queens are everyone,
though perhaps she meant to type
everywhere.

she thinks she's accidentally trying to die,
she puts accidentally in front of everything now

she didn't think her body would let her do this to itself, either that or
she's too fucking strong or..."unkillable."
or just.......

LOST

counter THIS with THIS and THIS with THIS
and THAT and some more of THIS while you wait for
THAT

her soul for a world that doesn't move,

for the permanent immobility of the universe.

HOWEVER
she has an emperor
for a lover,
plans for a future
she is to supposedly
attend (like a funeral?)
and a keen writing instrument
to keep her warm through winter,
though it has no wires, just ink.

but...
she will not give up on october
drunk as the horizon is straight
wondering how the story would have went
had she severed her head from the sky

deathbyinnuendo @ 2003-10-16T22:55:00

2003-10-17T05:54:49Z

access denied, mon petite minet

A: soon
B: never
C: N/A

but she is not sad

2003-08-28T01:55:01Z

I'm running my fingers across my neck like some noiseless violin and all I can think about is rewriting what I lost.

.

2003-08-09T04:32:17Z

deathbyinnuendo @ 2003-06-12T19:52:00

2003-06-13T02:45:56Z

No
I'm not deleting this,
I'm posting so it will not
be deleted,
and till i reach that place
and time where I can
renew.
everything.

it's coming,
like an apocalypse
without the screaming.
or really, as much.
this will be a new plateau of excellence,
i guess.

deathbyinnuendo @ 2003-06-10T19:24:00

2003-06-11T02:14:03Z

sans deletion

powerlines, powerlines...don't blame us, you were just a kid

2003-05-03T19:58:27Z

"the girls are back in town.."

look at this paper i have with instructions on it-
it's blank or
I'm nearly naked or
it's a baking soda ocean and
here comes the vinegar.

a few good men in christmas socks.
and i still feel strange, radioactive even.
like the parting of a sleepy idea and 'this is what it is' 'isn't it?'

oops, wrong direction,
make a fast-reverse and you're at it again.

he whispered, dreaming
"demon"
and I giggled up until
I thought
he may have been speaking
to me

what doesn't scare me is
what really scares me,
which is everything.

arturo bandini

2003-04-26T03:27:27Z

but i am coming back.

and I can't comprehend the
gaps:

3/24/03
today is today is today. i've been virally raped. immunity or death.
-IMMUNITY OR DEATH-
and today is nothing, vaguely something, but nothing, no outcries, no flashing neon aspirations, sick and trembling yes, but no outcries. feverish and unfulfilled, destined to survive something i haven't the strength to. the weeks are flying by, like flying horses, clawing through the great blue sky, and there is color now and has been for quite some time.
3/28/03
AAAAAAHHHHH!
4/7/03
I.make.things.happen.
4/8/03
and i dreamt about bad spirits in the room. and i open my mouth to scream and there is no sound. and if i had to say i was something, if i had to
sum this up, i am, and will probably always be -
HAUNTED.
4/15/03
i jump into the puddles of blue and swim deeper and deeper until i wrap my hands around the rings of saturn and we waltz and waltz this day away
4/16/03
2 minutes of a break left and yet....
a lifetime of breaking....
the railroad rumbles by, crawling into the horizon with unstoppable pride in its own mortality.
someone walks with a red umbrella, through this garbled static of gray.
4/18/03
'and i know this much is true'
4/23/03
and he is stroking the phone cord with his finger..
he is writing a letter. i see his tongue persuade the envelope to seal itself indefinitely.
4/*24/03
neither fish nor foul nor good red herring?
somewhere, beyond the sea, i am not choking down "sassy sours" to subdue the emptiness of an eternity spent MIA. somewhere, beyond the sea, 'every little breath i take is a pretty little gift to you', and we share more than eyeblinks and carbon dioxide. but really i don't care. i just want a bagel. and not even that, a star. to call my own and in a dream i can run up and hug you from behind. and in a dream christopher walken does better impressions of himself than i do.

the train is arousing today. with its pulsing steel and seductive growl. pushing through the city like Don Juan, carving hearts into my pupils.
------
and so a new fancy camera and lots of possibilities,
possibly 'art school' and video production and blah blah, moving again maybe and so on but i'm coming back newer and focused and this poor past representation, how i cringe to type in it, and i'll understand when you all leave, though when i was watching the koi thrash through the water like razorblades i had a vision of my return, because someone is just giving me a new computer, and i guess we could meet again someday or perhaps i'm just reading too much john fante

razzle dazzle

2003-04-07T03:25:26Z

--obviously I am a little confused, dazed &.

i just ---nah let's skip to a really great cut,
hair cut. he said his inspiration was clockwork orange and his 60s beatnik dad or my purse which i guess he thought was a Clashes' album cover, or the fact that those 60's mod squad girls in his picture were wearing a sweater I have and i pointed this out, Nylon went all Louise Brooks, and she is always going...somewhere.

no time for fancy witticisms
cut &dry

for personal reference:
mr. roger's vietnam scars
Lester Long [v.v] "and there are scars you can't see here and here"
The Dobbs/,
"Hi my name is Tasha, may I refinance your home mortgage? Please? FUCKING PLEASE?!"

nylon vomiting onto my hand, let's just leave our farewells on this paperplate:
"Thanks for letting me puke all over your house. We'll have to do it again sometime."

but more seriously,
and less deliriously,
which is more or less
impossible
for I, who must now scamper away,
screaming over the horizon
"I feel really dirty but have really clean thoughts."

viva la postmortem

2003-03-03T02:39:41Z

rock music sidewalk ate our dark silent house

[backlog of events]

"I didn't really sleep
But I woke up in a van.
I think I am going blind.

[only my contacts were switched]

We drove to see our friend on tour in some city,
then later Courtney Love stole
a baby mouse from a snake cage
And put it in her pants pocket,
she would not give it to me and I knew
it would smother.
She was obviously a slut.
so i told him to get it out of her pocket.
am i too drunk to hold a mouse[?]
he'd actually have better odds
surviving the snake.

going to be "big movie star"
in some film where i am a nurse
and torture a patient and he does not know if he is imaging all these horrible things
or if they are reality, i hold dead goldfish and
straddle him
force feeding him maggots? i just glanced over the story board and agreed anyway.
nylon will be naked picking fish from a fish tree, she'll stuff a watch in its belly and send it down the river.
watch for me at sundance.

"there ain't nothing better than a girl who's moving on"

I sometimes wish the lines on the pavement were shortcuts between universes that could only be used from 30 stories up.

"2-27-03
I can't escape the 365 day tour of the girl formally known as MYSELF. My glasses are broken, I'm going blind, my heart is a moonlit prison yard from which there is no escape, and Mr. Rogers is dead.

Death seems a plausible excuse for not coming to work, there's blood all over my keys and, sadly, not one goes to the padlock around my soul. My head feels the way Courtney Love looks, I'm pretty sure I have a cavity, and my courtesy laugh is a sad temporary room where we both can sit and pretend I like you.

The only slightly semi-sweet activity I've engaged in was slathering my hands in Suave Advanced Therapy lotion. The only reason being, besides the humorously appropriate title, is that feeling my bare fingers, drenched in hot sticky liquid, slide and interlock in an erotic dance reminds me of how hauntingly tragic ~~desire~~ everything ~~can be~~ is.

this day is like fucking tasteless peanut butter.

"I really think we could make it girl....I want to make it with you..."
this song reminds me of serial murder, really hardcore bloodlust, romp um', stomp um', slice um' till they're red MURDER"

2-28-03
I feel like making lewd and suggestive advances.
I am a reluctant slave to the promise of a "better burnout."
I'm a giant dog running alongside my desires, tongue frothy, eyes like rays of gold, tarnishing as I watch them fade into the horizon...and yet..
my mind is clear, powerful, and compelled.
Even on those monochrome, drizzly days.

I haven't went underground in a very long time.
Those sort of caves with the calcium
smell and burmese snakes.
Wet, gloomy air, the sad and dangerous dripping, a sexual echo luring tourists from the path, pulling them close and deep.

can you recognize how complicated we humans have made our realities?
Is it any wonder turtles outlive us?
crossdressers, barcodes, nutrasweet, taxes, wires, passwords, spoons, rules, secretaries, postage stamps, viagra, DNA, RNA, genetically mutated lima beans, gatorade, powerade, computers, commuters, alarm clocks, fuzzy socks, mp3's, christmas trees, hairspray, layaway, etc etc etc.
You know what deer have? Forests.
Fish? The ocean. What do we call this?
THE MOLESTATION OF IMMORTALITY
aka:
screech
Crash!
Blam-O

3-1-03
"all that we are or ever hope to be we owe to the devil and his bootleg apples"

I like when grown men look through kaleidoscopes,
twisting youthfully as if yesterday they were collecting
baseball cards. All those crushed gems and broken hearts,
mirrors and light flashing the mind blank,
all that love and loss temporarily suspended
in a rainbow of possibility.

--------------------
and so rushing about
leaves our heroine
probing for minutes

soon a connection will be reestablished

rattlesnakes and benadryl

2003-02-22T19:23:14Z

i don't know.
we have binoculars now
though they often draw the blinds.

i made a notebook for nylon and i
that we pass back and forth everyday or so
i read it at work
she, at school
i like to pour myself all over
the pages, i do this with people
because it is an easy way
to excite yourself

this computer has restarted 4 times
just now.
it must be convenient
having that option

there is an infomercial on for a yellowstone national park video
it has 3 hours of exciting wildlife footage and is hosted
by kenny Rogers
when i was there as a child i always had a curious desire to jump in
the hot springs but only
after my mother told me
i would die.

i need more penpals.
[deathbyinnuendo@aol.com]

perforated valentine

2003-02-20T00:19:37Z

no internet connections are readily available yet
and watching the neighbors watch me as I watch them
is tiresome so

i will write to you because these excess words are beginning to fog up my head
if you want a letter or something just email me your address
we tried to get fruitbat stamps or houdini
the post office is like a 19th century train station
and the mail-women skip around wearing federally issued knee socks

i can't tell if people above me have sex
or erotically snore

alkaline free

2003-02-14T19:01:13Z

temporarily no internet connection

there is a guy who hangs out with corey feldman.
nylon is gone temp.
i am alone
but there is good water pressure
and plenty of apples.

sugar and photons, broken leg pirouettes

2003-02-07T09:01:24Z

remember -
Don't Fence Me In Incident of 2003
and Sock Occult Stuff

nylon and I
are moving
into this
weird old
Berkeley Mansion

it is big and empty like my heart used to be
only filled with an immense natural light
and amusingly tall ceilings like church
as if we should be saying our prayers every night

for some reason
and I chose not to question this,
my bedroom is the only room to have a fluorescent light in the ceiling
as if it were 7-11.

walk in closets, a catacomb of rooms
so much light, like sugar and photons
almost spiritual in the sort of way that
makes you want to acknowledge it with
a huge metal statue of JFK's bust or john
wayne portraits in the cupboard.
we've decided against being tasteful.
I'll finally wake to the morning sun
instead of my heart sinking down into
a pile of ash composed entirely
of aspirin and fear.
medicine for a scorched purist.
I can call myself that.
I looked into it.

i will leave all computers and use Nylon's for now
here and there
until a new one can be acquired
or mine is fixed

i have no time which I will compare to:
pushing my car off a cliff and waving bye-bye as
Elvis screams out the back window

two answers waltzing past the doorway

2003-02-03T09:37:47Z

"Would you tell me please which way I ought to walk from here?" asked Alice. "That depends a good deal on where you want to get to," said the Cat. "I don't much care where--" said Alice. "Then it doesn't matter which way to walk," said the Cat.
--Lewis Carroll

"oh troll, dance a dance of happy"

2003-02-03T09:32:14Z

a fire or a birthday or something
homicidal punks
wanting to kill
everyone.
"if you come in my fucking house
I'll kill you." someone says something
about wood "I'll kill you." walt disney,
"I'll kill you." the moon, "I'll kill you."

"You'd be the first one I kill."
I don't whisper well.

By the way, I have butter knives sharper than that.

tea
waking up at judith's
bright paint
poetry everywhere
the-fonz growling out the window

tapping my fingers
upon the prospect
of picking on someone my own size
say like..
a volcanic island.

and--
if a wild pack of family dogs
came running through the yard one day
I wouldn't say much of anything at all,
either.

when I can't find the phone, I'll decide it's symbolic

2003-01-31T12:23:34Z

my favorite part of my job is at night when
I'm all alone
flipping the fuses because I feel like
lora dern in jurassic park before the raptor
rips through and eats her.

she gets eaten in my version.

A friend of mine, who likes to drink beers as black as an alley, having recently parted ways with her ex, suggested buying a photo snow globe and inserting a picture of him into it and sending it anonymously for the self satisfaction gained from being creepy, however, I explained that if it were me, I would insert a picture of my room into it with an attached notecard saying "Now you can turn my world upside down whenever you want"
i have come to the conclusion that this is probably a good indicator as to why I am currently single.

I must stride to bed to prepare for my upcoming performance as:
The Girl Least Likely to Get Her Wish
-to fall off the face of the earth-

my eyes slowly filling with delirious newsprint

2003-01-30T12:11:20Z

Dear Heather,
THIS IS MY BEDTIME STORY
THIS IS HOW I CONVINCE MYSELF TO LIE.
DOWN.
Call me an octopus
i have eight ways of living and they all suck

i don't have anything to say therefore
it is 4am and
my finger is bleeding

i don't feel alone, but yes I do
i feel limited by this machine because it has only one program on it --
this one. it is a very sick piece of metal
and i can do nothing but...
and since when were words never enough?
since the PILLOWS AND BLANKETS took over
they look like prison bars to me

i just want to draw windmills
hundreds of windmills
but they wouldn't move on paper

i think i have a windmill ontop my head
the blades drip blood
the creaking keeps me
awake, through the keyhole you will see a darkness but
it isn't darkness, just a light you can't see
"I dropped the skull" he dropped the skull , pick it up, "pick it up!"

meanwhile, written on a key lime pie, "all along you've loved the structure..." fossil fish are flying through the clouds, the clouds in my pupils, you swim there, you cough, you cough so much, i have a smile that cracks like terra cotta and you have auto parts for fingers, and too many ribs in MY INK
and you are no one
no one
no one
these are the 2 syllables that unfold like a napkin
drive the 100th nail into my coffin, my pillow
full of rotting feathers, if you mix dirt and ice....."I will reject you."
I promise.
i am full of promises
[like jazz] I cannot believe I am beneath the sun
beneath it, coughing
this red thread signifies the miniature city of Sodom and -just sodom
for my valentine, a hot tub of blood and dry brains, if we sing a science fiction song I will teleport the bible, the great big bible with the holy water nosebleed, jesus keeps the BeDazzler on his nightstand so that he can pierce your faith, I am sparkling, fashionable, and innovative because of Fashionista Jesus
God how I love to watch them
holding their cigarettes like flowers, the slime blossoms as they cough, what a pretty little garden of things we do
last year's lust could fit in the palm of my hand, but time forbids it

[we interrupt to bring you an important translation:
I'm so fucking tired
but I can't sleep anymore. I need a new computer and the only way to fall asleep is to send you as many words as i can vomit. I miss M*A*S*H]

THANK YOU AND GOODNIGHT

ps****i'm going to slit my throat with the mailbox
it's what I like to call a "childhood dream"

On a good day, the stairs lead up [not down]

2003-01-30T02:20:24Z

more sound
more shows
music, fire

you set your drums on fire

staring at the words "dearly departed" on his shirt on stage
and later...
feeling paused in mid-air
on my tiptoes
arms spread wide, like a dancer
balancing satisfaction
and weightlessness...

and in a van
with those old acquaintances
who are comfortable like diabetic socks,
relieving pressure
or stress.
you don't realize you miss people
until you are sitting across from them.

this is a blackboard universe
and water could wash it all away--
but I am satisfied.

Nylon and I are trying to be
German Train Yard Aupairs!

I just paid entirely too much money for:
This Shirt
but I was..
graphically enticed.

when we turned on the t.v.
George W. was talking about dropping acid [on the skin]
electric drills through the flesh and raping children...I thought..
"if this were a late night phone call I could probably press charges"
three stars for creepiness

god is now here vs. god is nowhere
HALLELUJAH

somewhere a washing machine is calling,
the rumbling sounds vaguely familiar as I
watch my towels thrash around
for oxygen