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07/01 Direct Link
this is the first day of July. but as i sit here typing this, it is really July 29, and I have worked through this whole month backward, so that I would be able to finish this batch with the month. I knew I would feel success, but it is only after I click PREVIEW and then SUBMIT THIS ENTRY that i will truly taste it. i think that it will be as sweet as lemonade.
but i think that going through the whole month of august will be even better, because i'll only have done one a day.
07/02 Direct Link
Daisies grow in my head. I uproot them. He loves me, he loves me not, helovesmehelovesmenothelovesssssssssss. With the shredded white remains I make a perfect daisy chain, the blood and sinew of summer. These daisies are magic. They will live forever. Every day I tear them out and they always grow back. He loves me, he loves me not, helovesmehelovesmenot. This repetition is not old. It is a cycle, like winter and summer, like living and dying, like fire and ashes. There is always room for variation, endless space for movement. But the dance is always the same.
07/03 Direct Link

listening to the mars volta and my head is spinning i only had a cup of coffee today and somewhere outside the sun is shining but i have been in this room for maybe three days emerging only to pee and get my coffee and a banana or two i've been trapped in a fever dream of writing and painting and i'm about this far away from losing my sense of self or maybe just becoming one with every single thing around me i have opened like a flower and i don't know how long i will be sustained for

07/04 Direct Link
I generally have the feeling that I've pissed someone off, even if I haven't. I guess it's my sensitive nature. Or maybe it's my neediness. I don't really know. I guess maybe I should care more, but all I seem to care about these days is finding the right pair of sneakers or getting the right photo of the clouds at sunrise. Things that matter, but aren't important. I'm not even bothered about making sense. I listen to songs like Julie and Candy and I think about where I'll be in ten years, and you know what?
I don't know.
07/05 Direct Link
and don't interrupt, it's really annoying.
now i forget where i was going with this. i guess it doesn't matter. oh yeah, have you ever heard of shades?
no, not like the blinds you idiot.
well, if you'd stop interrupting me, i'd-
no, no i didn't tell her yet.
why is that important? i didn't-
yeah i get it, but you keep blathering on about it.
ha!
oh please.
you don't really think-
shut up. you're kidding.
no, you're serious?
oh come on, you can't just leave me with that cliffhanger!
no, i'm not going to tell you about shades. 
07/06 Direct Link
Debussy's Beau Soir. Two fat, white candles. What the heck was I getting myself into? Oh, God. There were red rose petals. I was already uncomfortable, and I'd only just opened the door. Two glasses, half filled with what I suspected were a fairly decent Sauvignon Blanc perched on the table, usually reserved for my shoes when I kicked them off after coming home from work. The table had been cleaned off, and the only things on it now were those rose petals and the wine. I hesistantly dropped my shoes on the floor and waited, trying not to cringe.
07/07 Direct Link
Today is the birthday of a friend of mine. More a girl that used to be a friend of mine. It's not that we're not friends now, but it's been so long since I've even seen her, let alone spoken with her. We shared awkwardness together; her braces and my glasses, which would have been terrible on one person, were fairly distributed between the two of us. I have never laughed so much as with her. But time changes things, and people grow up, and yada yada. I'll always wonder what my life would be like if we'd stayed friends.
07/08 Direct Link
He held the apple, feeling its skin writhe under his hand. The red seemed to squirm under his fingers; maybe maggots lived under the peel. All at once, the apple was still again. He took a cautious bite, prepared to spit out any wriggly thing that might have otherwise gone digested. No maggots, but the apple was stained red with blood. Blood dripped down its side, running over his hand, catching under his fingernail. He turned to a mirror to see a faint red sheen to his teeth. The corners of his lips were crimson, distorted, stretched as he screamed.
07/09 Direct Link

grey silk smokes around her. it tumbles, swirls about her legs. i have never been allowed to see so much skin. i wonder what she's planning. she smoulders; easy sex is in her eyes. my fingers tremble against my cigarette. her smile appears like the moon behind clouds. i'm nervous.  
we're having dinner at one of the restaurants in her district. i have never been here in my life. i am in a bizarre world of bright lights and cacaphony. if not for her i would go home, curl under blue cotton sheets, and dream.

07/10 Direct Link

It rained. The plants drowned. Our backyard became a lake. The deck, which my father had spent three summers perfecting, was washed away in an uncaring, seething, furious, wet tide.
And it rained. My brothers forgot what baseball was, and tree climbing, and sunburns. We became pale little ghost children trapped inside for years, until we had grown up and become pale little ghost people instead.
And it rained. Sometimes though, the rain was only mist. A window might crack open, somewhere in some city, but just for a minute. Two minutes, sometimes. Because the rain always started up again.

07/11 Direct Link

if i had to make a list of one hundred words i loved it would probably take a fair amount of time to think of them all but it's true, i really do love words and i honestly never think about the meanings because they're arbitrary. words are entirely arbitrary. but the way they sound gets me every time. skitter noodle querulous opal dreamily moonlit hyperventilate spoon paranthetical aesthetics banana vaccuum albeit nonetheless sibilant cacaphony murderess whorl crag chaos nettle chickadee feverish acidic poetic melancholy cream who I echo passion guts fury suck frozen broken dust what are your favorite words?

07/12 Direct Link
I am lying in the middle of the street. It is probably around midnight, but it's not like I really have a concept of time. I know there are demons in my blood. Not that they're malignant, at least, they aren't yet. But I know they're there, and they know that I know, and so on and so forth. So I lie in the middle of the street so that when they burst out, it won't get on the smokeshop on the corner, or on the people walking by. I am considerate, after all. Two tabs later, I am dreaming.
07/13 Direct Link
One of my friends says that 13 is his lucky number. An Italian thing, he says. I'm not sure what that means. My father's mother and her family are straight out of Sicily, and I haven't ever heard such a thing, but then, I have never asked. I wouldn't anyway. I don't know much about Italy, but I do know that I would like to visit and that Italian is a beautiful language. Not as beautiful as German, but that's probably a matter of taste anyway. Italian is liquid gold and sunlit piazzas; German is breadcrumb trails and mountains.
07/14 Direct Link
Today I exist in a dream state where words are blurs and grey is gold I can see my veins clearly pulsing and it freaks me out My first grade teacher wishes me a good morning and when I spill my tea in surprise it turns into a pool of molten lava that I have to climb onto the table to avoid It is still there when I blink and by the time I've blink three times more I can see stars through the holes in the ceiling Holes in the ceiling? The stars dance into the form of Draco.
07/15 Direct Link
i am a thousand people over the course of a single day and sometimes more, sometimes less. it depends a fair amount on the weather and how much coffee i've had in the morning and what sort of dreams i've had the night before.
sometimes i am a dreamweaver and do nothing but lie in bed and pretend that i am elsewhere. sometimes i am pretty hipster. sometimes i am masculine and obscene. sometimes i am not even there, except for a wink and a half-dimpled smile. sometimes i have a foul mouth. sometimes i am pretending.



what's real?
07/16 Direct Link

I've been on this goddamn computer for hours to write some goddamn human genetics paper and now I'm on goddamn Facebook and I don't even know how I got here. Why I can't focus on the shit I'm supposed to has always been beyond me, but it's really getting to be a problem now. I mean, this paper was due two days ago. Two fucking days ago! And I haven't even started yet. And now I'm dicking around on Facebook. FML. I need coffee. More coffee. I've drunk probably a whole damn pot already. This really fucking sucks, man.  

07/17 Direct Link

Dang flabbit, she muttered to herself, staring at the computer screen. I didn't interrupt, only looked. She jiggled the mouse absently at first, and then with increasing frustration and concentration. I wanted to peek over her shoulder to see what the problem was, but I don't know a single person who doesn't get annoyed when someone else looks over his or shoulder when he or she is on the computer. DANG FLABBIT! she shouted, slamming the mouse down on the table. After a breath or two, I couldn't resist anymore and craned my neck to see. Her screen froze.

07/18 Direct Link

Trying to catch up on the whole month of July is giving me a headache but I am determined to persevere because I feel like if I can finish this, it will set a precedent for me, and I will then be able to finish everything I start, which is not exactly a common thing for me to achieve. I have about two more weeks until the beginning of July, and all that's keeping me going is my Noah and the Whale station on Pandora, and the success I know I'll feel when I have caught all the way up.

07/19 Direct Link

dark eyes trace me
a soft kiss on my bones
i think i fell in love

i am so tired
i want to drift unthinking
trade my soul for a cloud's

this collection of haikus
a motley hybrid
jack kerouac might be proud

big empty blue sky
like heaven
or God in a baby's eyes

grey cat sinuous in the grass
stalking tiny white mice
and unfortunate dinner surprise

the penguins on my mug look at me
are they curious?
do they hate being still? 

a small frog lives in my backyard
he might be a prince
i give him a very nice rock

under the rim of the ocean
big things lurk in the dark
little fish swim, careful

07/20 Direct Link

in the air
in reverse
start the car
from start to finish 
finish everything on your plate!
everything and anything at all
i'd do anything to get out of here
get out of my way
make way for the fallen hero
jack fell down and broke his crown
what's a king without his crown?
without words is language
the language of love
i love you
where are you?
where can i go from here?
stars are a million million miles from here
you mean the moon and stars to me
what the hell does that mean?
passed through the ninth circle of hell
we're going in circles
circles and squares
it's hip to be square

07/21 Direct Link
there are strange things in the water they say. things that will make you wake up in a cold sweat from anightmare in the middle of the day or see strange colors where they don't belong like purple grass instead of green. they say there's something in the water but they also say you have to be susceptible to its influences. the ones that are especially at risk are the ones who live in a semi-permanent dream state because the dream state acts as a catalyst for whatever bizarre things exist in the water. they call it going crazy.
07/22 Direct Link
She'd never had big dreams before. She hadn't had the time for them. But as she watched her sisters grow white and wither before her, she began to think of all the things she wanted to do before she died.
One morning, a giant came closer to her, trampling a cousin. "I am going to make a wish!" the giant announced. With no further ado, she was plucked out of the ground. Even as the milky juices poured out of her, she was filled with elation. Her dying thought was a wish for the giant's wish to come true.
07/23 Direct Link
An hour of dry humping later and they sat on the couch, staring at the tv. In truth, she was lying on her side, pretending to watch the movie he'd put on to take up silence and time, and he was diddling around on his laptop, not even pretending to watch. Was it awkward? She couldn't be sure. Probably it was. She was hot, and felt like a mess. He was as composed as always. It was impossible to find a crack in his skin to slip under, which was lucky for him, but left her feeling ridiculous. As usual.
07/24 Direct Link
Summer danced that afternoon. In the shifting white linen curtains, in the fluttering, yellowed leaves, summer danced. But it was a silent, breathless dance. The leaves floated without commentary, and the white curtains rubbed themselves softly, disclosing no secrets. Laundry, drying stiff in the soft sunlight in the grassy dandelion-spangled yard, hung on unevenly taut clotheslines, noiseless.
The clink of ice in a glass, the murmur of pink lemonade swirling out of the pitcher; these things shattered the careful quietness of an afternoon. But they were small things. In the orchestra of silence being directed, they hardly mattered.
07/25 Direct Link
He was one half of a set of parantheses. He knew it, his friends knew it, his parents certainly knew it; having created him, he supposed they knew him better than most.
He knew he was the second one, the closing paranthesis. He had answers, but he never was sure what to ask. He knew what the end was going to look like, but the start of the journey was a mystery.
This was all very well and metaphorical, but he was more interested in reality, and finding his other paranthesis partner. He dearly hoped that she existed.
07/26 Direct Link
i am working on this july batch of 100 words backwards. i am listening to death cab for cutie and wishing i had socks on because my toes are cold. i also wish i had a kitten. i do have a dog, and i love him dearly. charlie is his name and he is a spazzy, sweet, snuggly chowlabrador mix. but he is no kitten.

what of myself will i reveal in this? who will read these words that flutter in my brain like birds, or rabid bats? will they vanish like puffs of smoke in a breeze?
07/27 Direct Link
White legs. White sheets. Her shirt is white. Soft cotton. Smooth skin. Her legs are so pale, so smooth. I want to touch her. I do. Her legs. Those white legs. The white cotton tshirt is all she wears. I smooth it over her body, so gentle, smiling when she shifts closer. She is asleep, but not soundly.
I could drown in all this white. I’ll freeze to death in this blizzard and she will never even know.
I am grateful.
I can't breathe.
I wish it could be like this all the time.
07/28 Direct Link
The last time we had an argument, I broke three or four glasses. They were perfect, aside from one with a few remaining drops of daiquiri left inside. You walked away that night. Didn't take anything with you. Just left. Left her to stew in her own juices, you told my sister later, left her to clean up her own mess. I suppose I should thank you for that. I learned a lot. Fine. I will. Thank you.

What I will not thank you for, what I can't, is that you love my sister.
07/29 Direct Link
folk music pattered and rain skittered on hot asphalt surfaces and it was summer. something about the steam rising and the singer's tremulous voice and the fact that it was the middle of july made everything come together. it made sense. cigarette smoke curled in the air between them and they stared out the window together waiting. they would know the signal when they saw it or so they'd said since the rain began two nights ago. the record skipped. her mug of peppermint tea was cold. it was too hot for tea he'd said and she smiled. lightning flashed.
07/30 Direct Link
I got up early this morning with the sole intention of getting my hundred words committed while everyone else in the house was asleep.
This is why I love mornings. I can breathe, and scatter words like holy water around me, and it's all fine.
 Anyway, last night while I was falling asleep, all I could think about is what people will think of these 100 word snippets of me (should they read them). Will they know which bits are true life, and which are fiction? Will they know when it's me that's speaking, and when it's someone else?
07/31 Direct Link

he stepped out of his skin, calm cool snake, and drifted through the hallway, past his sleeping alcoholic father and the space in the bed where his mother had slept before he left them both. this was when everything was easy and calm and nothing bad could happen.
he floated through the front door and set his sights on the stars, because he knew they were cold and uncaring and he had secrets to share. the knot in his stomach dissolved as the trees shrank to shrubs under his feet and he kissed the clouds.


"Wake up, boy!"