ive been drunk before. off to the store with you. last night they carried adam away slung over somebody's shoulder happy birthday dude youre awesome i ran around and found lee and ran into matthew, slunk around nina's kitchen for a half hour until the banana bread was ready, spent two days trying to give my car away. and with frozen hands i tapped out codes on my thighs. walk walk walk.
yours, amanda L. at 6:31:00 PM [+]
1. ballet shoes in the mail
2. the girl that murdered her mother's livejournal
3. i miss my izek.
4. i missed the _____________ at the _______________; and
5. yesterday was my half-birthday. now i am HALF-WAY TO TWENTY-EIGHT AND THAT IS AWESOME!
6. cotton brain
9. plus plus double plus
10. i can't help it!
yours, amanda L. at 2:52:00 AM [+]
my sister was driving to centreville virginia so i got in on it. i ajoined myself to the plan. in our old neighborhood we pointed at things with exclaimation arms and later i ran into our backyard and stole a huge rock from aside the homemadepond, which was scummy and leachy by the way. i said, wait wait wait! and ran back there and hefted up a rock, and ran back to the car.
i took the metro in. sketched out and deconstructed the expensive stuff at the cool kids store. i can fucking sew this. hmm. i need a special machine for this one. pulled a scarf around my neck and held my head high through the doors---its buy nothing day, children. and then ate takeout food on u street by the african american civil war memorial. spent two hours walking in an long L shape, looking at grafitti. vodka into the grapefruit juice bottle. french cigarettes. i'm going to france.
feel this burning sadness in my stomach. i'm backpedalling. i was better when i had a studio. with a dramatic flourish: ahh, fucking hell. STARTING OVER IS NOT THE BEST FEELING BUT MAYBE THIS TIME I'LL GET IT RIGHT
yours, amanda L. at 2:59:00 AM [+]
dumb shit drank so much diet coke my hairs blond. all my hairs. ate some turkey and then spit it into my hand. i heart lottery tickets. watched the macys parade and thought about andrew in new york watching the giant balloons. thought about wes in new york watching the giant balloons. all the people inside the television, streamers and yelling and cold faces, i remembered coney island crowds and was like, shit motherfucker, i shoulda gone to new york too and i'd be having a ball. a giant ball-oon. !DO YOU REMEMBER WHEN WE COULDNT PUT IT AWAY! and that sort of stuff. half a mixtape. neon pink tongue, and breathless shit, and crossword puzzles, helps.
crappy old blog explosion rejected my banners because i am too profane. its okay. BLOG EXPLOSION IS JUST FOR BLOGGING MOMMIES AND RIGHT WING FIFTEENYEAROLDS AND YEAH I SAID IT THATS RIGHT
i'm a little profane. but more, more so, i'm bloody and bloodier over songs. WHEN YOUR LEGS ARE BLACK AND BLUE ITS TIME TO TAKE A BREAK! reader, i miss you more than you miss me, and this makes me cry in the fucking dark. you don't believe it. i'm full up with moments. wish i were swimming in the Ocean plus holding on to you with all arms and legs, and then rolling like an alligator. through the water. over over over. kill ya alligator style, life.
yours, amanda L. at 8:17:00 PM [+]
please please please will someone with time and web design create a richmond city stories site so i can write stories to it???
if i get it together enough i guess i will try. but my web design lacks a certain something something these last two years. i've let myself go.
yours, amanda L. at 10:30:00 PM [+]
i'm flying out in a week yeah. can't fucking wait to be eating banana crepes and soup kitchen soups and checking to see if george is still alive, fingers crossed, knock on wood, et al. its been two years! yaythan will be there four days later with an apartment. and that is awesome, citizens. and i will do everything.
last night in the bathtub i remembered these things, with a gasp of clarity:
i have done a hell of a lot.
i will continue to do a hell of alot.
i'll be dead someday and time's a-wastin.
and then lying in bed i thought over the last year, my "bad" magic year, carefully remembering the worst of it, and found to my extreme pleasure that time and memory had done its job and the bad parts had turned pleasant allover. i checked through the year and it had entirely transformed. reverse aging; unwrinkling etc + + + + + + + +
there is an algorithm in place inside my brains that disallow me to ever feel regret over much of anything. it is the same neural makeup that makes me a born liar and scam artist.
particularly, leg warmers and other winter layers, peeled off and discarded around the room, the boy and his warm bed, movies and drawings and arms flung around waists. the secret life. and then, the era of surgery and soapy hair and the trip to philadelphia. and even the ugly crushes; holding the cellphone in one gloved hand and the broken beachcrusier in the other, ice on the ground, saying in my head, this is dumb, and not original. and helltrack in the cold, and going out with the girls, and the entire month spend having breakfast at 821 with jessie k, and i heart winter in richmond.
now that i'm leaving, of course.
yours, amanda L. at 3:27:00 PM [+]
i had dreams about stevie and ian and wes and a cutthroats meeting. stevie and ian had moved to some beachfront place and i swam in the ocean and there were these concrete alphabet letters all over the ground near the house, paving the sidewalks. i also climbed up the side of a grassy, sandy hill that got steeper as i went up until i was gripping the sides and windy-headed and wondering if it would hurt too much to fall off. there was something to do with wes and his going to new york to see his brother but this was the beach, not new york, and wes was skateboarding around. and then everyone was in some new living room having a cutthroats meeting, and whosever house it was i had just met for the first time in the dream, but by the time we reached the living room we were already making out and the kiss was amazing and i hate it when i fall in love with phantoms.
yours, amanda L. at 2:22:00 PM [+]
i walked throught the dark to the IGA. the whole world smelled like fireplaces. my card didnt work in the BB&T machine, so i wandered into the grocery store. and then wandered my arms full of alcohols. my insides do a whirl because they've got sparks. stop, stop. every dog on every tethered rope barking in my direction. the craigsville elementary school. i grab everything grabbable.
you have ID?
do you wanna call my momma? (hopefully) i'm twenty-seven.
who's your momma.
vicky nuf--vicky lewis. i'm bea's grandaughter.
i walk throught the cemetary and sit ontop of my grandfathers grave awhile, drinking a sparks. cemetaries are scary, i think. does my grandad have my back here?
later at home they tell me my granny has been feuding with the IGA man for years and years. she sits in the car and won't go inside when my mom stops by. and that my purchases and the rest will be talked about all over town the next day. ITS LIKE FUCKING FOOTLOOSE. my sister and i buy pay-per-view together and i drink. Saved, which makes me upset and i hide in the bathroom crying and then washing the red out from my face. i think about this certain boy and suddenly hate him. and i am drunk to myself, i should be a mom. lo and i smoke on the back porch. he isn't my friend and in fact i hate him. the urge to telephone somebody and say this aloud is miserable.
everybody ever: call me when you are in the throes of things.
yours, amanda L. at 1:42:00 AM [+]
my eyeballs are dried up to little raisins. i can't stop reading metafilter and literotica. and i can't stop reading crazy books and my eyeballs are dry, dry, dry and i am weak and addicted. and i would very much like to be lying drunk halfway up the mountain behind the house. i need help to actualize my dreams. i didn't make it...i...i didn't make up to the top i'll struggle to say, sit up and look at you, flop back in the leaves then and look blankly Up. o what a waste of the night
the altitude in craigsville gives one the spins. everyone is atkins dieting and its making me so vegan; just weeping over the eggshells, today was good and warm; the cats and i rolled around in the grass as a common language, i introduced my mom to the bicycle with wonderous results: and we cats grew grassier and sillier, plus she's pedalling circles allover the backyard around the stick piles and then says, ride your bike to granny's to get that cake. no, no, no I'LL ride the bicycle! i'll ride it! and she's off.
here's my mother riding a bicycle:
tore myself away from the internet to wander quietly around the house. music. i follow the sound to where my dad's created an office in the dining room, a nonstop dialup jobsearch. he's listening to blink 182.
its very late.
my family gives me the crazies.
i'm going for a dark walk up the mountain now. if you arrived at my doorstep, i'd take your head in both hands and say, lets get the fuck out of here with bells on, please
no i'd just grab ahold of you and smile toothily and such
yours, amanda L. at 1:38:00 AM [+]
the house has two baths without showers. the shower stall was built in the back of the house like an afterthought. it shares a room with the washing machine and dryer and cat door and kitchen pantry door and the door to the porch. my mom is mowing the lawn and passes by the window. to take a shower, you have to somewhat close the door to the kitchen, but not all the way, so the cats can get in and out and not be cross. the door to the backyard doesn't quite have a curtain over it, but i think about looking into other peoples' windows as a child in the suburbs, how in the daytime with the lights off inside you can't see a thing. so i wait for my mom to pass the door again with the mower and then i hurry off my clothes and hop into the tiny stall, pulling the curtain closed behind me.
and bathing is just the best, i feel. and this is not so punk. but ohh. other peoples' showers with other peoples' bathproducts. today, i spend the time making the water hotter and hotter in tiny increments and daydreaming unspeakable daydreams over various richmonders.
the water runs out and i'm only on pink underwear and a teeshirt when a cat runs in and drops a mouse on my foot. the cat and i look at the foot for a steady beat and then i give it a shake and let out a yell. the cat grabs the mouse in its mouth and runs for my bedroom, and i chase it with the pan.
i'm hollering at the cat like it is a person and we run around the house, making a maze of the area. back in the kitchen it stops and hunches over and crunches up the mouse to a bloody mess. i reach for it and step back, unsure of what to fucking do next. that mouse is toast. and in half a second its completely gone.
clutching the pan and its lid, standing in my underpants like an idiot; another cat comes in the kitchen, rubs my ankles and considers the scene. i've failed everyone here, i think
yours, amanda L. at 11:02:00 AM [+]
we rode our bikes to the prison and back
my aunties came over for games and drink. they brought four bottles of white wine and boxes of crackers; we drank it all up and became profoundly drunk, with gail shushing us and forgetting her turns, and when she got the spins lolei fixed her a big piece of toast and served it on a paper plate whereupon gail rolled her eyes and said, i've got to lay down. i've got to lay down.
nothing can be more hilarious when i'm drunk than than my mother and my aunties drunk along with me. we played pictionary---gail and i won with the word "saber"---and later Card Game, a game my sister has to re-teach us the rules to every time because its so insane and we are always too drunk when we learn it. we play with pennies from a sack that my sister discreetly uses to replenish our individual banks whenever we bet it all and lose it all. no one notices, no one goes out, we scream and yell, in higher and higher pitches, and thump our hands palm-down on the table making it shiver and the pennies scatter. we sweep the cards off with our arms, i win, you cheated, not fair, you bitch
i wake up at seven and creep around the house from room to room, and drink grapefruit juice from the carton, and worry if my mom will have hangover at her craft show. dreams about water and drinking it. back to sleep, back to sleep.
yours, amanda L. at 8:21:00 PM [+]
IPOD PYRAMID SCHEME!
i lost my ipod.
if you love me, you'll participate in this pyramid scheme.
so we can all get free ipods.
make sure to use an email you don't care about.
and use this link kiss kiss!!!
yours, amanda L. at 10:14:00 PM [+]
i can't write. there isn't enough daylight or something. in the country its just cats, grown-ups talking to cats in high voices with a hand reaching down; and me galloping around the backyard like a deranged child. i stop cold and say to myself, have i missed some important developmental point? do twentyseven year olds run across the yard in this way? i've picked a handful of spinach to make into something for dinner. i look at the sky and take off into a run across the yard. cats bringing field mice into the kitchen hourly which we chase around with a number of improvised traps, like trashcans and soup pots, waving them above our heads. and then raiding the icebox for beers. i started reading lord tyger and was not prepared for it at all. it makes me fucking weird. oh, last night i drank drank drank and put things into boxes and the ipod fell from my pocket somewhere and was lost. my sister arrived with rapunzel hair. and the only thing i didn't do on my To-Do list was wes.
yours, amanda L. at 7:28:00 PM [+]
i'm the music teacher.
the four main brass instruments are:
meanwhile, in the teachers lounge, with the ipod
listening to the follwoing songs:
mount sims/how we do
death from above/too much love
debbie deb/lookout weekends
the futureheads/le garage
blood brothers/trash flavored trash
sheila e/holly rock 1985
if you want a mix tape made of these songs, email me your address.
last night we watched a movie called rules of attraction and was about miserable things but still the actors were all impossibly beautiful. and maybe thats why it was so brutal.
no one wants to see beautiful kids have a hard time of it.
yours, amanda L. at 1:12:00 PM [+]
anda gail lewis 2005. stop crying every day.