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life = good

Mar. 27th, 2015 | 04:35 pm

"i like that. it's going on my life's to-do list"
"<3 then it's going on mine, too."

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the ever expanding journal. here are some early morning thoughts.

Feb. 17th, 2014 | 11:27 am

“sometimes i feel i would operate better as a ghost in this world. floating through cities untouched. grazing over mountaintops. watching the sunrise in the morning from dusty cafes in the desert. or drifting on a boat full of fishermen on a foggy lake in japan. to sit fearlessly on the edge of fire escapes in chinatown in NYC, my vision hazed by the smoke from chickens being cooked below by street vendors. to drift over a grid of paper lanterns that illuminate the food carts with a soft, warm glow.

when i was 13, i dreamt i would move to chinatown or live in an apartment above an old hardware store or cafe on a beach somewhere. maybe jersey shore. order chinese take out and spend my days painting as the blocks of window shaped sunlight move around my walls. it’s funny how education and experience shapes the things we want. it’s silly, but some part of me will always think chinese food take away boxes (the white ones with the red stamped painting on the side) are exotic. and how i once dreamt of living on the jersey shore, but would now settle for becoming a ghost and sit on fire escapes unnoticed.

maybe it’s the same dream (the solitaire existence, the love of beautiful of light) the only difference is that i’d rather die and be a ghost than move to new jersey.”

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Sara on Nietzsche.

Aug. 28th, 2013 | 11:51 am

"He doesn't get to keep all the philosophers!"

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coconut popcicle

Jul. 4th, 2013 | 02:50 pm

if i was going to take any photo that cannot be taken, it would be this moment.

sam and i nonchalantly passing back and forth a coconut popcicle while editing and lying on a couch. giggling over nothing (jabber about wedding photographers, talking about guests taking photos with our cameras and getting focus off), but i'd want a photo of that moment where we are looking at our screens and he passes the popcicle back to me and i take it without looking. a tiny loving gesture we do without thinking about it.

i'm in love, amen.

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(no subject)

May. 8th, 2013 | 08:18 pm

this is when i should be updating this journal.
when life is busy and i can't stop myself from smiling
where all i can think about is how amazing the future is going to be
when all i can do is reach over and run my fingers through his hair
play with his earlobe
and think about how unlucky i've been all my life.
fate has always worked against me, but it's humanity that's redeeming.
the people i know have overpowered my knack for bad luck.
my ability to choke on water when i'm drinking and my strokes of bad luck where i trip on sidewalks every time i leave the house,
those things that continue to happen because my luck is awful
but they're completely negated because i have beautiful people in my life.
full of wonder and soul
people who's laughing faces are my favorite sight in the world.

those are the things i should be documenting, instead of just writing when my head is full of wonder and i'm unsure of where things should be.

this is what i wanted to get out:

life is fucking beautiful

and i'm in love. <3

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(no subject)

Jan. 22nd, 2013 | 09:46 am

usually, my dreams are beautiful and lighting is... everything. i get to dream of Italian cafes and stratagems to cure heartache for someone i care about, but last night's dream was about the absent of light. there were no stars, just blackness in the gaps where the view isn't obstructed by buildings and overpasses. its not like the sun hasn't came out, it's as though daylight never happened. i've had these dreams, on occasions in life. in a dream i had when i was younger, the explanation was that it was a basement world, beneath our own. to enter, you open a cellar door and descend a ladder.

nothing profound comes from these dreams. there's no pattern to them. last night, i think william shatner was there and i think i had an office job. a dream without light doesn't seem nightmarish on the surface, but the thing about mediocrity is how unbelievably soul crushing it is. moreso than hard times which can inspire you to arise above it, to make something powerful in rebellion of hardships.

i woke up and listened to Daydreamer by Airiel and checked to make sure the sky was intact. my fingertips are numb from playing the ukulele for a few days straight.

life isn't mediocre and lighting is everything.

silly dream.

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from september 2010.

Nov. 12th, 2012 | 08:06 am

things get a little skewed over time.

features from lost loves start to fade
they warp a little
and eventually the fine lines existing on their faces belong to someone you've never met.

and did he really take me to the end of the world
or did it just feel that way because everything was dark and no one else mattered?

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screenplay of love.

Oct. 7th, 2012 | 08:08 am


I had a dream that a man I didn’t know had interviewed some of my ex’s to learn about my life and write a movie along about our life. A fictional story based on an imaginary relationship with him.

He wanted to figure out a realistic hypothetical situation where we’d be together. From start to finish. Why we’d break up, if we’d dance in parking lots, whether we’d smoke pot sitting on our kitchen counters, if he would be someone i never feel comfortable around without make up on… or if i’d want to walk around naked in his apartment… or wear high-rise underwear from american apparel around.

Would he be one of the boyfriends to help me through my fits of anxiety or one of the lucky ones who managed to get a year or two in when I was more healthy?

He had already written the first draft of the screenplay when I was handed a note by my balding ex that said, “I’m meeting Nessa at the food court tomorrow and I’d like you to come.” This was the first I’d heard of it, but I wanted to meet him. I felt like everyone was watching me - like the writer had a bit of omnipresence, with everyone in the world watching what i did these days, taking notes and reporting back.

I thought I was going mad. A car followed me from the gas station to a diner and after passing by the window and observing my order, they drove away. I noticed an elderly woman in a red coat checking my shopping cart as she passed me in the supermarket, getting out a notebook as she turned into the cereal aisle. I found a scrap of paper in a parking lot that said “she sighed in the post office at 9:16 after checking her phone. Could she be slipping back into depression?”

I met him, briefly. For someone writing a movie inspired by our fictional relationship, he was dismissive of me. Maybe this was because we had already broken up in his version of the story. I thought I heard him call me a cunt under his breath. 

He barely asked me any questions. He wanted to fill in some missing details he couldn’t get from anyone else. “You mean, my side of the story?” No, he said. He asked how many orgasms I’d faked, whether or not I liked the gifts I got from Mike our last Christmas together, and if I was in love with XXXX when we dry humped in his living room.

The dream ended with me sitting in a depressing mall food court by myself. I can’t remember if my balding ex had came or just handed off the note. I woke up with the strangest feeling of having been rejected.

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(no subject)

Sep. 15th, 2012 | 07:36 pm

someday, i'll be a bag lady.
i'm sure of it.
it'll be my chance to wear that sombrero
dance in the streets
and sing the song in my heart as loud as i wish.

you'd think i'd have higher aspirations
but i can't think of any other way to wear a sombrero.

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vacations for the invisible

Sep. 15th, 2012 | 10:49 am

vacations for the invisible

i'm the ghost of the places i have traveled. 
all the evidence of having been somewhere without any real proof. 

maybe i'll come back with a ring or a post card
receipts from restaurants where i tipped smiling waiters
blurry memories of wine tastings
sand remaining in my shoes from a trip to sand dunes.
but the only photographic evidence including me in my travels remains in a still from the grocery store
that could've been taken anywhere.

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