The Day Binary One Upped Me

so it seems summer is exiting much in the way it entered.
reading, solitude, sleeping in late & lots of dehydration headaches.
and at times the thoughts i have really are golden, but they are fleeting, and the energy to put the pen to the paper is just too much. once read maybe twice. but certainly not understood, least of all by me. and i'm sitting here on the side of the freeway with a flat tire. nothing to do but trace the rumble strips with my finger, because i'm not sure how to change it without wrecking things.
all of the things have been packed away now, in little boxes, that can fit in your lap and don't cost more than $5.29 to ship. good riddance, forgotten the instant they pass through my fingers. there are little paper cut outs all over the floor. and my mind/////..........pieces things. things that really have no need to be pieced anymore. because they have been resolved. at least in the most temporary of ways. and the person on the other end was never anything more than 0's and 1's, some kind of fluid self-invented combination. just like i am, .,,,!!!?///.

*he suggests some dramatic course of action. dream but don't sleep. method.method.method. medium. medium.medium. change it and bring it back. he dances in circles while everyone is watching. they don't laugh, and only some of them feel bad for him. the rest of us just sit and stare, amazed at how those digits are rolling...zero one zero zero one. a little calculator on probation from all those other numerals. on , off. off off on...what remarkable craftmanship.

but who am i kidding. sitting here strictly at zero.

You Are Not Authorized

I'm up there. where the green and the blue organic lines merge. i find a cigarette carton on the ground and i crawl to the back. peer through. you will surely find a funeral procession. lay back red Volvo station wagon, you smell like musty parlor and taste of corn chips. your headphones die and you find it best to leave them in, so people will think you are occupied.

Lindsey, you are trying to make something out of nothing.
it defies these laws. you rotate. you spin. and all the while things are in the makings for a machine that is sustainable. and waste free.these plans are fallible.
then we sit with vanilla yogurt just to keep the ball in play.

keep crawling you'll find yourself in the Spanish barrio feeling out of place. with advertisements for chips that you've never heard of, and shady looking men in 10 year old Cadillacs, with kittens on the license plate.

on the ground things have been crushed. we step there because we think they are bugs. they are people and small birds. the people are throwing up all over the ground. and from above these things look so small. keep walking for the rotten orange. little man, you will make it there someday. though i have the faculties to save you the effort i will watch from above. unchanged. with full knowledge of future disappointments. bound to travel just to get there and realize your prize is stale. but you were successful however Pyhrric. you don't know I'm here (watching.and maybe laughing) or you would curse me.
these words are done. i will burn them to make them my masterpiece. never seen by a human eye. never worthy. unaffecting. the heat and smoke will give them away. and the light will start a revolution. people will ask "she has burned the internet down to the ground"

and they will be out for good blood. a serious defector. good riddance.
without realizing it was never a real question.

Straighten Out Your Saddlebags Buy a Ticket and Get on the Train

i live in a house built of purple sandbags.
every three weeks we are the location of a new bollywood film.
amid all of the fluorescents, i am the one in camouflage fatigues.
purple flower in my hair, lots of gold jewelry. clear-plastic heels.

stereo-on-shoulder.
playing Peter Schilling.

in hiding, but my accessories give me away.

things need to change.

Just Keep Your Feet on the Ground

I was standing in my empty closet today. in the house alone. I stared down the odd shaped barrel of the empty hangers, and looked out at the world from the former perspective of my not-in-use clothes. the closet is a good place to sing. better than the shower even. almost everything is packed now and the closet is hugging me. i'm going to miss this palace. it's fortified, it absorbs the strains and places them carefully into a slot somewhere deep in the old wood and plaster, willingly offering the service, as if we were old friends. and so we are...and this a much older and wiser monolith of existence than i.

i leave now with no regret, with cautious hopefulness for the future. but i also leave knowing things will never be the same, a feeling described at best as oddly requiting. and in the sea of uncertainty i meet a school of seahorses and a small swimming dog, themselves the ultimate manifestation of peculiarity. what do i make of this? these things? there are many difficult decisions ahead.

but i think the palace is in me now.

Feel the Weight, Back Home We'll Sleep Better

i was sitting on the kitchen counter again. it always seems to be attached to historical events. and to wander.

the artillery at the veterans park. old heated paint. prevents the thing from moving the way it used to. the wires are clipped, and their leftovers stand as a witness to their former destructive tendencies. and the new texture ripples and the indents fill with dirt so the paint looks slightly purple instead of white. my legs are too short to reach the feet slots so i set them just above on the bar.

flash storms. makes the air fresher. but then the brakes can lock up, and suddenly your life is flashing before your eyes--> in an asymmetrical kind of way.

cars and trucks: in a hurry to reach their destinations. my mind floats above the traffic. i see things from the aerial. we move diagonally across traffic in beautiful patterns. it's all synchronized. a car goes straight through the green light, the exhaust is a big black plume. i catalog it to memory, and briefly run through the most recent times I've seen black smoke plumes.

at home. kitchen counter calls. and as i flee i count it as a victory==>and to wander. from the aerial i make odd patterns. not the kind you can make sense of. and reggie brings me back to better days, and as i silently thank him, i catalog the place where bike tires and roller blades have made indents in the pavement, and the patterns of the smoothed out surfaces of the sidewalks ahead, and those that have uneven surfaces. each is the mark of the skill or inexperience of its creator. and the old drive in, converted to a dry cleaners conveniently making life that much more efficient and sterile. at home something is waiting.

another plastic bag is stuck in the tree branches. the wind lifts it. some things are just so beautiful it hurts. and today is not the kind of day to acknowledge that.

thoughts are on that night. we drive. you pick that one song. the one by the june spirit. you played it because it has my name in it. know that night is unreplacable. i still smell your new car, and the discussion about how careful you were in picking it out, you wanted to be sure that nothing on the interior was leather. if you only knew how much of my self identity you singlehandedly constructed.

but i still believe in time travel. and the deflated balloon caught in the tree up the street, the one that has been there since valentines day-it believes too.

Under the Edge But Above the Pinecones, to the Left of the Yellow Grey Flag

the kitchen counter top sees my solitude.
and the silhouette on the glass above the sink is transparent enough to see the wire swinging from the back building attic window.
like some kind of cruel joke.

Nickee Coco and the Invisible Tree

once on cherry street i looked down an alleyway. the wind was picking up and it was about to rain. no not rain, pour. the kind of rain you could smell at least a half hour before the moisture hits. the kind of wind that makes the eaves rattle, and decorative pinwheels spin into a whistle. there were newspapers there. and old leaves that were left over even after the winter. they were spinning up towards thinnly paned windows on the 3rd story.

i looked down my throat in the mirror and saw that alleyway today. i feel unsettled, physically, emotionally. if i could throw up i would.

but I'm not looking for pity, just peace of mind. i walked past the turban house, and looked deeply up the poplars thinking nickee must be up there somewhere, and as i walked i fell off the sidewalk. its silly not to watch where you're going. as if finding nickee is really all that important. the owl found her, but only once he wasn't waiting for it.

Dear God, Thank You For Self Aggrandizement

I've decided that I'm really glad that I'm small, because I've become increasingly aware of things that are bigger than me.

Hubcaps From Heaven

just thought i would say, there has been another sighting.

A Faithful Abettor

there have been few moments since i've made the acquaintance of a one UNNAMED that i have felt fully satisfied with the order of events.

yesterday, however, made quite an exception. i won't bore anyone with the exact details of how we happened upon each other,however, i do think it fitting to say, those few, ephemeral moments did a thorough justice to the fundamental nature of the culmination of our affiliation.

who's the lightening rod now?

You're A Strange Apparition In This Land Of Potted Plants

hey lady put down the phone, cancel all operations, tell your friends to cool it.

after i finish this paper i don't want to hear anything about islamic jihad, that is unless it has to do with jihad+disco night at the classic skate------>because that would be awesome.

12 Healthy Steps For Life Improvement And Development Of Hyperactive Lung Disorder

i laughed so hard my lungs will surely collapse
what my friends have to offer:

1). Carrys her camera around in her little sister's cat slipper.
2). Wally Willy Whipple's fudge caters 24 hours.
3). blueberry muffin bread on a plate that i don't have to wash
4). a clown suit and biodegradable picnic ware.
5). vivid images of maroon shorts and booty dances.-thank you Ludacris
6). 'little Lisa says ouch' on my answering machine.
7). Antonio Banderas and take the lead--Whippdog style.
8). 500 pictures to be posted on facebook in less than 2 hours time.
9). pillage a village viking style--meat cooked on a spit included
10). bunnies and kittens
11). universal k boot
12). crypted messages sent on my behalf, without prior knowledge

A Job That Slowly Kills You.

i saw the trains today.
they were beautiful.
i love trains.

i finally got kirsten's package. i love her.
it was a long walk to the post office.
it was windy on the way there, but not on the way back.
a woman was trying to sell a black bmw to a man in a snowboarding jacket.
i saw a native american woman in a car. she smiled at me.
she was beautiful, in an unassuming kind of way.
a little boy hid behind a tree. he was wearing snow boots, i wasn't sure if he was hiding from me or his mom. she was taking out the trash.

a man's dog was watching him while he installed carpet on some stairs. he looked at me when i walked by.


the current day dream:
we go for a hike in the mountains. it's summer. we make sculptures with dead grass, and leave them for someone else to find. we pack a picnic. and we're headed to go swimming. it will be cold, but worth it. it's really sunny. we're all tan. we jump off the top of a waterfall and swim for hours.

when everyone realizes how hungry they are, we hike farther, and find the most beautiful meadow. we eat our picnic. we lay down in the sun, on the warm grass, and talk for hours until it starts getting dark.

we gather our things, start walking back...and once we get close we race to the car. it's a long drive home, and it's dark, but everyone is quiet and happy. we listen to music and everything is perfect.

Cowboys And Candied Yams

today was such a perfect day. i sent a postcard with a cowboy riding a jack rabbit,
drove through the mountains.

there is nothing to love more than being a passenger. let someone else be in control of things for a minute. it is so relaxing.when you're driving you miss so many of the beauties of car movement. like the tiny water droplets dancing across the passenger window, or how they change when it starts raining harder, or you start driving faster. or the way the water pools up on the road where the tires have driven most. and the way the rain splashes in the puddles and reflects the surrounding light just right. and on the windshield how the drops formulate unique jackson-pollock designs (make your own here http://www.jacksonpollock.org/), only to be wiped away and begin again. or the way you can hear music you never really liked but feel so happy and fulfilled in the fact that you are just listening and sitting. a guest in someone else's life. subject to their preferences, but thankfully so.

imagining exactly where it is that everyone is going. and feeling silly when i see a truck that i have a good idea where it is going. (donios has ruined me) feeling totally satisfied about talking to someone about art. even though i know he really knows not of what he speaks, a privilege which i also cannot claim. but mostly just the feeling coming over me that my life is totally in my control. maybe not to specifics, but the beauty of having the ability to control how i react to things. it's amazing. chris' grandma is such a nice lady. she apologizes for everything, down to that she is nervous that her furniture isn't nice enough, which is exactly false (her house feels like the pieterhov palace) even in her old age, she still just wants people to accept her. i could be annoyed by this attitude, and i think i normally would be. but today everything was just different. i couldn't help but love her. she's just a lady looking for love and acceptance, who am i to deny her that? especially when she is accomadating and apologetic.

i feel like a different person sometimes. like I'm not the Lindsey that i know.
but i like the new one much better. i hope there is snow on the ground when we get back to provo. and i hope that the icicles are still on my house. those were the biggest ones i'd ever seen in my life.