Monthly Archives: May 2009

symphony of thought

Wearing big black headphones from the eighties, a cardigan that used to be her granddad’s, and her worn-in jeans, she walks around in the fog gracefully. She steps with the beat for a while but then stops herself. She refuses to be controlled by an MP3. Occasionally she feels compelled to twirl or move around and sometimes people smile and laugh at her. She wonders when dancing became humorous or embarrassing. It doesn’t really matter, she’s secretly in a world where music notes swirl through the fog and erase all the world’s problems and embarrassment doesn’t exist. She lays down on the grass at the park and does some automatic writing in her tired notebook of secrets. She can only write with pen and paper, computer screens are simply too impersonal. With the shuffling of songs on her ipod, her mood changes. She blushes, cries, smiles, and dances. She’s no longer in control, if she ever really was. She falls asleep briefly after a particularly dreamlike song and wakes up with a pile of polaroids next to her. She looks through the pictures and sees they are all of her in her various emotional states surrounded by fog. She searches around her to see who might have left these pictures and sees no one. She is both frightened and flattered and decides to collect them in her small leather bag. As she walks back from the park to her small house she turns the volume down so she can listen to the silence of the fog and smiles.


the shadow of no one

This gravity is too much for me.
Perhaps I’ll just fly around in a hot air balloon,
never touching the dirt with my tiny feet again.
Perhaps I’ll just be a pilot or a flight attendant.
Would you like some juice or coffee?
Perhaps I’ll just buy a trampoline,
and constantly spring up into the skies.
Perhaps I’ll just live in space,
eating space ice cream.
Your words are weighing me down.

Like a photographer waiting to see what becomes of his Polaroid picture, we waited to see what would happen with us. Neither of us ever talked about “the relationship.” That just wasn’t what we did. We both knew how we felt individually, but it was simply too strange to talk about it out loud. For years people would ask if we were dating and I just never replied. Many times you started to tell me how you felt, but something stopped you. You would sigh and take my hand, and tell me that some day you would figure out the words that fully expressed the feeling. I guess it wasn’t that you were too afraid, as I was, but that you simply didn’t have the vocabulary to talk about love.

Every morning I take a shower and wash my hair with coconut shampoo. I put on my mango body lotion and pineapple chap stick. I wear my hawaiian flower earrings and my palm tree necklace. I turn on my computer, and a portrait of a sunrise in Kauai appears as my desktop. I eat banana pancakes and drink guava juice. I paint my nails hot pink and put on my bikini. Then I put on my tights, pants, sweaters, wool coat, scarf, and mittens and trudge through the snow to the subway.

Tagged ,


My heart is half-full. My heart is made of the softest material you have ever felt. Much like the fur of puppies. Yet this material is quite durable. It stretches to include more love and happiness and can never be stretched too thin. My heart sparkles. It’s an unusual shade of pink and little flecks of gold can be seen if you look close enough. My heart is warm and cozy. My heart is pocket-sized and has a little bit of lace on its edges. My heart is happiest with other hearts nearby and when love of any kind is present. In it’s entirety it is not for sale. However, it is filled with little tiny hearts which can be borrowed for extensive periods of time, sometimes for up to a lifetime. This item is not sold in stores.

madlib poem

If you go to and click on madlib poem you can make amazingly ridiculous poems. Here’s mine.

crunchy tree

I danced my foxes and all the forest aches stories;
I forgot my envelopes and all is haunted again.
(I drink I taunted you up inside my coconut.)

The records go scrambling out in happy and soft,
And cute shoe climbs in:
I lift my Eleanor Roosevelt and all the hotel shouts face.

I pouted that you shook me into secret
And screamed me comfy, hugged me quite ridiculous.
(I drink I taunted you up inside my coconut.)

boat spins from the bird, T-rex’s nightmares frolic:
greet hiccup and France’s accent:
I lift my Eleanor Roosevelt and all the hotel shouts face.

I shopped you’d swim the way you sleep,
But I paint hilariously and I focused your photograph.
(I drink I taunted you up inside my coconut.)

I should have rapped a Ben Gibbard instead;
At least when lemur whistles they snuggle back again.
I lift my Eleanor Roosevelt and all the hotel shouts face.

(I drink I taunted you up inside my coconut.)

– Mandy & Sylvia Plath

Create Your Own Madlib on

Mashup Smashup

This is a poem made with many different titles of songs in my music library.

Hey girl.
Girl inform me.
Me and the moon,
my moon my man.

A good man is hard to find.
You’ll find a way.
A million ways,
a million little pieces.

Pieces of what?
What sarah said.
No one said it would be easy!
Easy girl.
Are you gonna be my girl?

We are your friends!
Let me introduce my friends.
Don’t let me down.
Down with prince!
Something is not right with me.
The geeks were right.

Wish you were here,
the night starts here.
One more night,
two more years.

Two cars;
speeding cars.
Cars and telphones.
Here’s a telephone.

Why do you let me stay here?
Do you remember?
Hands remember.
Put your hands on me, my love.
Love is a fast song.

Tiger mountain peasant song,
her favorite song.
My favorite accident.
My only offer.


happier pieces from the past

1. There is something about his eyes that makes me trust him. He seems so familiar yet I have no idea why. It’s as if I have been dreaming about him my whole life. The time we spend together feels like a movie. I have always been cynical of relationships that developed quickly and yet I can feel myself falling in love after a few days. I feel completely comfortable around him and I can be myself and at the same time he makes me want to be more.

2. Sometimes I get this feeling in my stomach like I’m about to give a speech in front of the entire school. It’s a feeling of excitement, of nervousness, of butterflies. However, I’m not nervous for anything. It takes over my body and mind. I try to figure out what is causing such feelings every time they happen. I think it’s the overwhelming feeling of falling for someone. My whole body becomes aware of this feeling and I can’t help but feel nervous for what is to come. I think the worst feeling is one that is not reciprocated. It hurts when you love someone and they don’t love you back. It’s horrible when you’re missing someone and they’re not missing you. It’s the subject of tragedies. Likewise, it is amazing when someone thinks just like you do. When you swear everything they say could come from your mouth, it’s like magic. It’s like finding someone who completely understands you. You don’t have to worry about sounding weird or stupid, because they’re thinking the same things.


grey clouds

It’s time to fly home. I don’t want to. I never want to fly home again. It’s foolish to think such things, and I know that, but I can’t stop thinking it. I’m sitting here in the chairs at the airport, waiting next to all these people who are flying back to California on the same flight. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. I just called my best friend and had to hold back tears with all my might as I told her how entirely depressed I was. I’d wanted to move to Seattle to be with my boyfriend but everyone said it was a bad idea and told me how horrible things would be if we broke up. How I would feel so alone and I wouldn’t be able to move back if I wanted to. So I listened, and decided that I would just stay with him for the summer and then come home for school. And now it was August and the summer had passed by more quickly than I’d ever imagined it would. How could I just go back to California and feel content with my life there now? It was simply impossible. I can’t stop thinking about him and how terrible life is going to be as I board the plane. I’m sitting here in my compact little chair, curled up as tightly as I can, and staring out the window. I look down at the wet tarmac and I can’t belief that I am actually leaving. I take my ipod out of my backpack and try to distract myself but it’s randomly shuffling to all the songs that talk about love, happiness, and California. On the flight over here I had been so excited and had talked to my passenger neighbors happily. Now I don’t even look over to see who has sat down next to me and I pull my hood up so they can’t see the tears that stream down my face. I’ve been crying the entire flight, and now I’m back in California, so far from Seattle. Even though it’s sunny outside, everything seems grayer than it had in rainy Seattle.


You are goodbye: reposted

It was time to say goodbye to you. There was so much I wanted to say. So much I wanted to do. I thought about kissing you, even though our friends were all around us, but I didn’t have the courage. We’d always been in this state of not-dating-but-in-a-relationship and I didn’t know how to act anymore. You had graduated on Friday and were moving out while I still had another year. You looked at me with those dark blue eyes and I felt my stomach fill with anxious butterflies. How could I thank you for everything you’d done for me in the last three years? There weren’t words to explain it. How could I tell you how I felt about you, especially here and now? I blinked back a few tears and you noticed. You sighed and enveloped me in a tight hug that was over much too quickly. We should hang out again soon, you said to me as if I were only an acquaintance. I walked out to my car in shock and drove home in tears. I couldn’t believe you were content ending things like that. I called you names under my breath. As I got out the car I was already mad at you and angrily shoved my hands into the pockets of my jacket. There was a note in my pocket. It was folded up into a neat square with my name in cursive on the outside. I opened it up and immediately recognized your handwriting. It read:

Dear Sophia,
I am sure that as you read this you are probably furious at me for giving you such a terrible goodbye. However, I hope that this letter will help you to forgive me. It’s Saturday night as I write this, and I know I won’t be sleeping tonight because the thought of leaving you tomorrow is tearing at my insides. It’s hard to believe that I met you just three years ago, when you were an awkward little first year, because the imprint you’ve made on my life is so tremendous. I want you to know that my biggest regret in college is not making you my girlfriend that first week of school. Every time we went together to study in the library you always accomplished so much while I couldn’t help but focus on how beautiful you looked when the sunlight created shadows on your face and how adorable you looked in glasses. And it wasn’t just your appearance that caught my eye, you taught me so much about life and love like no one ever had. You’d show up at my apartment on Saturday mornings and take me on adventures around the city (instead of letting me recover from the night before), and I’ll never forget them. I’m not a brilliant writer and this letter isn’t coming close to describing how I feel about you but it’s the best I can do.
Love, Luke

My eyes filled up with tears as I read the note because even though it had been a nice note, it was a terrible way to end a relationship. As I looked at the letter again I noticed an arrow instructing me to turn the note over. I flipped it over and it read, turn around. Confusedly I turned around and there you were, leaning up against your car on the other side of the street. You walked up to me casually then paused in front of me before kissing me.

“I’m so sorry for screwing things up. I was so so stupid.” You said.
“It’s okay Luke.” I said, not really knowing what to say.
“No it’s not. I want you to have something.” You replied and got a ring box out of your pocket.
“What are you doing?” I asked, in complete shock.
“It’s not what you think, I know perfectly well how you feel about marriage. But, I also know that i can’t just leave you and pretend that what we have here is not great or even perfect.” You explained, and opened up the box.
Inside it was a pink plastic ring with a fake pink diamond on top, like the kind you find in quarter vending machines for kids. I laughed and wiped the remaining tears from my cheeks.
“I want you to have something to show everyone that we’re dating and it’s your favorite color. I do want to marry you someday and I hope you’ll rethink your stance on marriage before that day comes. I love you Sophia.”
“I love you too.” I said and took the ring from the box.
You smiled brightly.
“That’s probably the cutest thing you’ve ever done.” I said and took his hand and led him to the car.
“Why thank you. And where exactly are we going?” You asked.
“We’re going back to your party so you can be with your friends and I can show off my new ring!” I said, smiling.
“Of course we are.” You said and we got into your car.
You took my hand as we drove and I smiled knowing this was not the end of our time together.

come again another day

The news reported this morning that a summer storm is coming. Outside, the intimidating dark clouds are moving in closer. The comforting smell that only summer storms can create fills the air and wind makes the palm trees sway. I survey the yard with my dog following, and realize there is a lot to be done before the storm comes. I work quickly so I can enjoy it when it arrives. I take down the heavy blue and white striped umbrellas from the tables and put them in the garage and imagine myself being carried into the wind with a quiet laugh. Next I move the white plastic tables and chairs up against the wall and stack them so they won’t blow away. The sky seems to darken by the minute and I go inside to find some candles in case the power goes out. They smell like cinnamon and vanilla and I decide to light them anyway to make the house smell cozy. I change into a nice dress and I look through my cookbooks to find the perfect recipe: greek salad for two. Then I begin to take out the ingredients from the fridge. Suddenly I hear the first sounds of thunder. The dog whimpers slightly and I comfort her. Then I sit down on the couch and wait. About five minutes later the doorbell rings and I go to answer the door.
“I almost thought you weren’t coming.” I say, smiling up at him.
“I’d never miss out on a summer storm with you.” He says, smiling back.
“How come it took you so long to get over here? You’re always here for the first sound of thunder.” I say, slightly pouting.
“There was an accident on fifth street, or I would have been here even before it.”
Thunder claps loudly outside, interrupting our conversation, and we walk into the kitchen to make lunch for the show. We sit outside on the porch on the brown wool blanket we always use and eat our lunch as thunder and lightning fill the sky. We make light conversation in between the booms of thunder but quiet entirely once rain begins to fall. The rain makes the silence soothing and we lay down on the blanket together, facing each other.
“I wish we had storms everyday.” I say watching the rain fall delicately on the earth.
“As do I. ” He replies, only staring at me.


Bon Iver

This is a poem I wrote about Bon Iver:

Bon Iver –
Go into your Wisconsin cabin
of a shell.
Talk to no one.
Get inspired.
Write beautiful emotional lyrics that
sound and feel
like those woods you lived in.
Record your music with basic equipment.
It won’t matter.
Create echos in the house of your father.
For Emma, Forever Ago.