sleep & memory

day in and day out. day in and day out. I try to keep my sentences short, oh, just the way you like it. I remember that ride, where I felt completely at peace with the world. How I always wished the world could look just like this, forever. The sky was blue and the grass was green. I wanted to fly up and out of myself, and lay there until time decomposed me. These pictures bring back memories of a time that was once much better. I didn't have any cares or worries. I was, really, halfway across the world. I was outside the area of communication with my friends and family, but I felt so disconnected, it didn't even matter. The big green phones always called out to me, ring, ring, ring. The card in my pocket burned a hole. Don't you wish you were there, too? I know you do. No one, ever, in existence, shall return to my exact spot and feel what I felt. No one shall look out the rain-speckled window and stare at those boys with such wild ferocity and wonder... How could two school boys, on their bicycles, be so interesting? I traveled from city to country and from country to city. I can say I've climbed a mountain. And I wouldn't be lying.
I can sit here and stare at the television, and maybe I'm not so alone now because I can hear my mother sleeping in the next room. I have a feline next to me, adjoined to my hip. My legs are feeling the warmth of this machine, and it's traveling to my cold hands and feet once again. The lights are unnaturally yellow, and I wish I could take a picture. Outside, is black. Black like that time. I feel like the night calls out to me, as though I should be a nocturnal person. But sleeping is so good to me, coddling me like a newborn child. It takes away my self, and allows me to dance and writhe in it's dream world, where I am quite invincible. I see bad things, and good things, things I both do not want and want to remember. Sometimes I am sad to awaken, other times ecstatic. My consciousness is slipping, being pulled from behind my eyes. Can I reach out to you? I think not. My other half is sleeping a town away, watching bad kung fu movies and jogging at 11:30 at night. I wish I had the motivation to wander around the earth so late at night. I want to be someone else. My lip is bleeding bad now and my back is crying.


pictures(c) me, except for #3

What am I feeling?

My head has that kind of heavy feeling, like it could just topple off of my neck at any moment. I can feel the cold from my toes pressed against my jeans. The sun is shining outside, and it's a beautiful day. I drove home with the windows all the way down, and felt like I belonged. My hair was rushing around my face in the wind, but not going above my head thanks to my hat. I was listening to the right music, and smoking a cigarette. But I was returning home to an empty house. I wanted to go somewhere, and do something, but I knew that homework was awaiting me. Homework that isn't getting done, even now. The television is on, and it gives me some sort of connection to the outside world, even in this lonely house. I feel like I'm not sitting inside of an empty building so much. But you. Why can't I stop thinking about you? I feel it in my fingers, but not in my brain so much. My brain is swimming. I only have so long to sleep before everything comes crashing down. And yet, I sleep all the time. Too much, for someone my age. I don't know what I want.

Aching head the next day.

Water, water, water. Her eyes were bright, and clean, and alive. Her hands were shaking, and her knees were trembling against the cold wind. This was something that didn't happen often. She didn't know what to make of it. All she knew, is that she wanted to crawl into bed and lay there until the end of time and her for her soul to be taken away. Everything was coming back and forth in flashes, and she wanted nothing more than to feel his arms around her, and her hands entwined in his. These people were cold and harsh, and insulted her at every chance. Just because she lived in the quiet little neighborhood, near the horrible one.. was that probable?

Synesthesia "Gimme Heaven"

(Synesthesia / Synaesthesia) - (sin'is-the'zhea) - Noun.

A condition in which one type of stimulation evokes the sensation of another, as when the hearing of a sound produces the visualization of a color. Synesthesia is "abnormal" only in being statistically rare. "Synesthesia" is a sensibility which cannot be understood by other people. An incident brings two lonely souls who possess this unsolved puzzle of mind to meet, leading to strange events and a serial murder case.

Shinsuke has been going on with his uneventful daily life, with "synesthesia" being the only symptom differentiating him from others. He keeps the dark depth of his mind to himself, but feels distant even from his best friend and his fiancee. Mari has also been feeling deep solitude from experiencing synesthesia which she feels she is unable to share with anyone. Her parents have passed away, and her adoptive parents mysteriously die, one by one. Picasso, the "dealer of death" comes into scene as mysterious incidents and murder occur one after another. Shinsuke suspects that Mari is being followed by Picasso, and that she may be the next victim. Shinsuke and Mari's fateful meeting upturns their lives and leads them to tragedy.

Marlboro

She was up at 7 a.m., bright-eyed for the morning ahead. She went to church like a good little girl, and went to work until 10 p.m. She was told that she would have coffee awaiting for her on the other end of the world. Or so it seemed that way.

She went home and got changed, put on her fresh doll-face, and got into the car. As soon as she received the address, she was on her way. She drove for hours and hours, in the lonely night. No one on the road. No more headlights to encounter. It was already getting late, and she was tired. Happily expecting that coffee.

After much coaxing, he came from his house. It was like a silent reunion of two long lost souls. What were they supposed to do again? Oh yeah, visit haunted spots in Jersey and take pictures of each other, and stare into each other's souls. Take pictures that would last forever, hold hands, see through one another. Drive all over the Jersey landscape in the night with no one else.

First, the coffee was not prepared. But the jitters in her cold bones kept her awake. The driveway was bitter and mean to her, not making the situation any better. They drove to Wawa, drove to Marlboro, didn't get out, couldn't get out. Her stomach leaped up into her throat and she couldn't do anything but drive away. They sat in an abandoned shopping center parking lot for a while, listening to music. She got criticized for her taste in music. Tried to access the internet, but to no avail. Jersey was dead at 3 a.m.

Were they the only two souls alive at that time?
Hot, hotter, scarier.
The night ended miserably.
Something was taken from her, something inside was broken. She left a part of herself back there. But it's forever lost now.

Haddonfield, Still

So I spent my entire Biology class dreaming up things to fill this blog with. I have quite a few ideas, 3 full lined pages in length. Daydreaming was much better than learning about the damned cardiovascular system. And every time she pronounced something wrong, it made me squirm deep down inside. Which was quite often.

picture (c) me

Haddonfield

So now here I am off to school.
I'm sitting in my bedroom with the lights turned down low, and my finger tips are as cold as ice. I wish I didn't have to ride that rotten bus with all those alienating people. Talking on their cell phones about shit that no one cares for. I am in a class of perhaps 10, and my professor is a complete moron. She makes me fear for the direction Biology is taking.

Maybe I should do a picture a day?

pictures (c) me