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[02 Dec 2009|03:57pm] |
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Ugh. There is one thing that still irks me, like really irks me, not funny irks me. And that's A.J. Perales and his gigantic brain (not in the good way), his gigantic, oozing stupid brain that rubs off on me still like a disease.
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[20 Nov 2009|04:41pm] |
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High in the sky.
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[17 Nov 2009|05:39pm] |
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I definitely should have ended up at SAIC for my undergrad;
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[17 Nov 2009|02:40pm] |
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Sorry I am such a depressing fuck.
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[11 Nov 2009|05:52pm] |
My New Nailpolish is Robin's Egg Blue and I Know I Could Show You
Kate Lamy, 09/20/2009, CW104
I nudge up the screen and climb out the window and onto the roof. My jeans hug my legs as they search for a comfortable place on the wet. The second floor of my house rises a shout above the sidewalk. This is where my room is. My ears eat up the clean waves from my speakers while I try to ignore the smell of clarity that always comes with rain I hadn't heard. I murmur hello to two boys that walk below me. One sports a long blue wrestling robe and long brown hair to match, the other walks next to him; both faces like generic brands. They do not hear me. They do not see me. They do not smell me. They do not feel me. They do not taste me.
I see your face and remember that I would probably love to skip around on this damp planet with you shuffling next to me. I would promise myself to not talk very much. I would promise myself to just enjoy my air without anything else guiding me through its structure. Just enjoy the air.
But my breasts twitch from the punches thrown in my chest.
The other girls that slink around this house are downstairs in front of the television or in front of frying food. Their faces look like those boys walking below me when they sit in front of the square smiling face. They sit together and listen together. No one looks at the line of hands that forms on the couch. They don't look at our toes forming a new family below us. The colored nails wiggle without reason and they follow one another.
I remember when I made myself sick over you. It was at the beginning of the summer and I was living alone, a shout above the sidewalk. I was in this place. I was in this town of humans made of tolerance. My neighbor with a high voice would try and catch me when I would scuttle out of my little apartment. Before he moved to another building, he beckoned me towards his big straw hat and told me that he had woken up to a woman singing during the time that he lived there.
"Was that you singing?"
"I sing sometimes."
"Late in the night, loudly singing?"
"That was probably me."
"It was always a nice surprise. You have a beautiful voice."
But I did not hear.
I remember coming to that little place after a long night of trying to waste time and knowing it was my own home. My pelvis and head would converse with my toilet on daily. After a week of not having any sort of reassurance that you were still something, I walked over to your house. I did not rehearse anything to say to you while my knees teetered on their joints. The sidewalk felt unfamiliar. The rise and fall in my chest became a beacon. I was still breathing.
I saw you and laughed the entire time. I saw your brother and told him how strange it was to see him without a cast on his leg. His swollen leg exposed, I stared at it while he explained what hurt. You paced. I laughed.
"Did you want to get lunch?"
"Do you want to eat here or go out?"
"I think I would rather go out."
"Where do you want to go?"
My eyes were fixed on you.
"How about Taco Bell?"
"Okay."
"Do you have that movie that I left here, you know, that movie. With Adam Sandler. Remember? Do you have that?"
"Punch Drunk Love?"
"Yeah."
"It's somewhere around here."
You looked for it with slug arms, rolled shoulders and sleepy hair.
"I'll get it to you later."
I made a quiet noise at your brother and we walked out of the crowded room. On to the porch with black rained on the surface. Down the stairs that moved with our weight. On to the driveway gravel and into the little red Subaru that belonged to your grandmother. The steering wheel had a rubber casing with purple and yellow flowers on it. It was dirty and worn where hands had rubbed. We called this car Nimbus. I laughed to myself a bit, but said nothing.
We drove in silence and short phrases. HOW HAVE YOU BEEN, WHAT ARE YOU DOING, DID YOU FIND A JOB? My breasts twitched. I looked at the pretty hole in your face. As expected it slowly and artfully dropped short answers of GOOD, NOTHING TOO MUCH, NOT YET.
"Should we go inside?"
"Sure."
The bright color of Taco Bell reminded me of chicken roll-ups Dad would bring home for dinner. This made my skin crawl towards you.
We walked inside of Taco Bell and my eyes opened up wide and my pace became awkwardly mechanical. I couldn't seem to feel much of the skin on my body anymore, but I could feel the skin on the air. It was thick with the breath of other customers, the people floating behind the counter with that look on their face and the two of us. You ordered something and I ordered something. We sat at a table together, on our purple seats that swiveled. We swiveled.
The music inside of the Taco Bell made me force out laughs though I did not feel like laughing. It was joyous and simple, generic music. While distracting our eyes, they would meet and you would smile and I would smile. Your eyes made me laugh. Your long fingernails, pale skin and dirty hair made me laugh.
Looking at you then, I thought about how healthy we had been together staying up all hours of the night. I was certain. We both slept alone now, apart from our six in the morning bedtime. We could go horribly late. When I had class, you had work. But we were both so healthy; feeding each other love and holding cigarettes up to one another's lips.
Now our relationship was a suffocation war.
I suffocated for a few more months after that trip to Taco Bell. I took some baths and some skin fell off. I did not hear me. I did not see me. I did not smell me. I did not feel me. I did not taste me.
All I knew was that my breasts were still twitching.
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[07 Nov 2009|10:43pm] |
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I love you Adam.
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[02 Nov 2009|09:41pm] |
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I never tell you what you should or shouldn't do.
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[28 Oct 2009|02:54am] |
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I have a lot of anxiety right now.
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[04 Sep 2009|08:23am] |
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This morning it only took me a minute to sit up in bed.
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[20 Feb 2009|10:18am] |
♥ Plants in tubs.
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| ARTS. |
[22 Jan 2009|08:49pm] |
So I'm turning this into my personal journal, as that's basically what it's been for the last few months. Sorry 'bout that. Anyways, I have a blogspot now for art things if you'd like to follow that.
http://katelamy.blogspot.com
Check it out. ♥
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