BLIZZARDED

things that rule during a snowpocalypse:
beer sitting on the snow out on the balcony porch
an extremely large vhs collection
potato chips
a brand new sketchbook
sleeping bags
& ya know, "maryjuana".


Other suggestions include
sitting on the floor listening to the following songs while fixing broken necklaces with
pliers and leather.

Fall

Off and on sweater weather.
Curled toes just barely hitting the floor that smells like stale beer and your clean laundry.
Beginning to involve those feelings where you're hugging so tightly that you might explode, and it feels so good, that it makes you nervous.

I run out of things to say when I really need to say them. It's that nightmare you have when you're trying to scream something at the top of your lungs, because you're terrified, or it's very important - but nothing comes out. Except this is reality and I'm fucking speechless.
I'm terrified of being too hard to understand. Or just not capable of being able to face all my demons. Sometimes hiding from them night to night. Either emotionally unavailable or just too available. Bad timing. But I cross my fingers, close my eyes, and tell myself i'm brave.
I've got all these friends that are within walking distance or a quick bike ride. Living in a fantastic apartment with rad ladies. Eating great food, drinking good beer, and having memorable conversations.
Chicago is something really special to me right now. An indefinite home I'm not ready to leave anytime soon.

There's a theme here.

WHISKEY SOUR SUMMER

I like hanging out on my new balcony swinging my legs off the ledge, drinking out of a mason jar.
I just overall like feeling like there's a new chapter in my life. The relief that winter is far behind me.
Figuring out some kind of balance with drinking and being productive is off and on.
I get close, and then I fuck up. 23 years old and I feel like a fuck up. All these imperfections I try to just turn into bad jokes. The keys and phone I lost in just one night become something we laugh about on a stoop.
Waking up and mending my scraped up knees. I wake up some days feeling like an asshole, and it's back to the drawing board.

So, I try to fit in all these spectacular sounding plans.
Like maybe i'll tune up my bike and put a tape player on it, and ride around listening to the Shirelles.
Or maybe i'll make this fantastic fucking picnic and go on some kind of date that involves a pinata full of mini comics for us to lay around and read.
Or going to the library and catching up on some very late homework.
Or finally going to a triple feature at the Brew and View and eating a shit ton of pizza while watching Pee Wee's Big Adventure (or whatever they're playing).


But I never have the time. Or i'd rather catch up on all this sleep I never get. Or it just sounds so much more convenient to sit at a bar and share a cheap fucking pitcher of Old Style and talk about the stupidest shit.

I've had special moments while drinking. They're as real to me as special moments while I was sober. That's the honest fucking truth.
For the time being, I just like to hang out with a stupid grin on my face.

I didn't just type all of this up because I feel like there's something in my life I need to justify to anyone, or even myself.
The way I spend my nights and how I feel about it, change on a day to day basis. Mostly, i'm having fun, and trying to figure out what kind of person I am.
Sometimes i'm just happiest sitting on a stoop, a porch, or in a garage, after a hot fucking bike ride, drinking a cold shitty beer with a tight friend sitting beside me.

STOKED ON SHIT

COOL MERMAIDS

This may or may not have been under the influence of a shared margarita pitcher.

I have to read poetry before I go to sleep every night.
Otherwise, I just lay there thinking like a lunatic.
I start building mental blue prints of how i'll be different the next day & so on.
Which is great, except I start getting overwhelmed with;
my inevitable fuck ups,
the faces that are miles away,
all the school work I haven't done,
bills, letters I haven't sent, things i haven't said,
"what the fuck am I doing?".
So, I read some Dorianne Laux until i'm asleep.