Ranty-pants.

this is gonna be a rant so fuck off if you don't want to hear it.

WHAT THE FUCK is this homeless-chic shit about, and why the hell do I find it attractive?

Excuse me society, but when the hell did Walden beards become a must have to work at Urban Outfitters? I saw a guy on campus today, a good looking, young guy who looked totally homeless at first glance. So I look again, and I ask myself "Juliet, is this attractive young man ACTUALLY homeless?" Now it's not impossible that there are homeless people on campus (in fact, I saw one just a few hours ago walking back from the muni....yeah) and the differences between actual derelict and knock off are discreet but noticiable, and they are as follows: one, the ragged looking coat is in fact a peacoat, poised to look careless and casual. Two, clean hands. Un-worked, nail-clipped hands, and three, those trashy looking faded boots he's wearing are actual Doc Martins which I happen to know for a fact sell at $108.00 dollars retail. NICE.

So, cross homeless off the list and accept the fact that this was in fact a very thought out, probably pre-planned outfit arranged to look effortless.

And you made fun of K-Fed.

ON THE ISSUE OF TALKING TO MYSELF:

Fuck off. I'm not going to try to hide this one anymore, anyone who has spent more than a day with me has probably caught me talking to myself. Am I crazy? Maybe, but I highly doubt that talking to myself is the major indicator of that, I believe wholeheartedly that there are TWO types of people who talk to themselves, the clinically insane, and writers.

I think that anyone who is truely a writer talks to themself, because writers think in words and anyone who knows words will tell you that much of writing, and of thinking, is about the way it sounds when you say it. It just happens. Stop looking at me like I'm out of my mind.

Seriously.

AND LAST BEFORE I GO WATCH WEEDS:

People not talking on the muni.

Okay, I get it, a lot of people on the train are fucking weirdos (take, for example, the guy who hugged me in Powell station today...fucker) but for the most part, the people around you are totally ordinary people and if you were with them in some other social situation it would be more than natural to talk to them.

I was on the train tonight with three people my age (all of whom got off at campus with me).

One was a skinny half asian kid with a v neck down halfway to his bellybutton who got on the train at Castro. Nice looking kid, very well dressed, obviously not a homeless guy or a creeper, totally silent. No headphones.

The other kid looked to be maybe 20 at the oldest, sitting on the bench next to me, obviously not homeless, obviously heading back to campus, totally silent, no headphones.

The third was another well dressed kid in a tee shirt and jeans with a skateboard, texting on his phone, (he was super cute, makes me wanna do that thing people do where they put out ad's on craig's list "Looking for skater guy from M train, got off at campus, walks slow, sad eyes.) but he too was totally silent, NO HEADPHONES.

So I'm sitting there, WITH headphones, right in the center of these three boys, all within total speaking distance, all young, totally sane looking kids who probably have a lot in common (since they all go to school together...) and no one is saying anything, it's totally silent. So I took off my headphones and started looking from one kid to another. Got to a point where I was seriously and legitamitely staring (especially at skateboard kid, hi skateboard kid) and waiting for someone, anyone, to say something. Nobody did. Everyone got off together and walked silently in different directions.

What the HELL SFSU?

I understand and am ALL for respecting people's space but why does it have to be so fucking awkward to say hi. I debated fake sneezing to see if anyone would say "bless you" to me, but I have never really practiced fake sneezing and I wasn't sure it would be convincing, and god, THEN who looks like a crazy person.

Ah yes well, problems with no solutions, and all that good stuff. I'm not tired since never sleep, ever. But it's early yet and I don't want to type anymore. I think I'll make some tea and watch Weeds on illegal Japanese sites with Chinese subtitles.

I like the name Silas, I think it's neat.

Night.

Do Better

DO BETTER.

drink.

less.

I forgot how much I HATE small talk when I'm not small talking with you.

I really only care about the little things when you're telling them to me.

who knew?

sorry for all the interruptions.

I think I deleted all my comments.

see you friday shhh.

Once there was a girl who lived in the mirror, in a place where rain rises from the ground and animals speak latin and smoke vanilla cigarettes and everyone talks to themselves, has friends, drinks ink and paper flavored tea. And this girl, she sighed and stared at her reflection, tucked her hair behind her ears and thought about how tragically monotonous her life had become and wished that she could find a place where not everything was made of music.

story of my life...

New Orleans

I'm moving to Louisiana, it's decided.

Festival of Lights, India.

Steady now, move slow.

troy fell, the romans, the greek,

the british empire's left with only a piece

and you and me,

turned out to be

totally separate entities.

and how to you fix childhood

turn from the safety that felt so good

the first love you claimed,

the invention of the wheel,

the flame.

how do you walk away?

you cant put a ship back in a bottle

it took too much time,

it's creation was subtle

nothing forced.

it all starts with splinters

but it ends in divorce

and all these arms that hold me still feel wrong

all the right words to the wrong tune of song

like trying to find a deer in the fog

or your way back home when it doesn't exist anymore

youre a scent that got caught in the breeze

a long distance phone call i still fall into with ease

you on my front porch, don't do this, please.

i made my bed but i need you to put me to sleep.

and im head drunk when i'm up at night

all of my words trying to fit in my mind

or the right way to tell you i cant do it this time.

wait i'm just kidding, everything's fine.

you're a phantom limb i still think i exists

gesturing wildly but making no sense

and still shocking, even now to see

the empty space where you used to be.

okay so it's over, i gave it my best

at the end of the day i can say no regrets

but it changes nothing, all these words i spit out

i still love you like always, nothing feels different now.

but i'll try and forget, you're a season that turned

the red leaves of autumn gone brown in the dirt

a memory fading on a page, what's it worth

we won't be the last to fall, and we weren't the first.

I need a job.

Kev Dev

I think I thought so much about losing you
That I never really had you
You spend so much time
You spend so much time
When you think youve got all the time in the world
And I turned you into
A conversation piece
And the things you take for granted
Turn out to be the things that you need
Im timing my breathe against the back beat of your footsteps
As we walk along cobble stone streets
Arms at are sides to live with
Eyes on the ground
Counting down to when we can talk out loud
Move on
Steady now
Move on
Move on
Move on
Youre letting a good one go
Youre letting a good one go
Youre letting a good one go
Youre letting a good one go

my next tattoo. does anyone get it? major brownie points if yes.

The office made me cry!?

" I didn't find the perfect moment because I think that today was just about having today

and i think that we are one of those couples with a long story when people ask how we found each other.

I will see her every now and then

and maybe one year she will be with somebody

and the next year i will be with somebody

and its gonna take a long time

and then its perfect.

I'm in no rush."

class blog!

I've been writing raps, is that even what you call it?

I'm not sure.

But look!

words sit in my chest like poison arrows, ripping my brain into whatever direction the wind blows, feel it in you, this day is still young, push it out from behind your ribs to the tip of your tongue, the battles won. one of ink and of paper too, a thousand letters scrambled like some fucked up sudoku, and a brain that has no stock in numbers, turning late night cigarettes into sleepless slumbers, and i have to wonder, look at what's lurking behind your shoulder, the shit that you dipped out on as the weather got colder, silent eyes that speak louder than actions, turning all your logic into decimals and fractions, how did this happen? look back, the road is narrow, this path is the one your feet wore through the meadow, no one has been here before you, where you stand with your soldiers in tow, a silent prayer for everything you know you gotta let go, just remember who you are and know this ones for back home.

Update

Embarcadero Skating, originally uploaded by Rev Dan Catt.

I used to have these dreams that I lived in a place where all day and all night beautiful boys rode skateboards around and all I had to do was walk out of my room at any given moment and they would be there whooshing around me and then I moved here.

Also it's weird that this is my life. I feel like I'm at camp only I live at camp.

I have math super early in the morning that's the no fun part but tomorrow is tuesday and thats a little closer to thursday so there's that.

In the meantime I'll just lean out my window and watch all those boys skate skate skate skate skate.

San Francisco Fog

San Francisco Fog, originally uploaded by Wiggum03.

ten day weather forcast for SFSU

foggy
foggy
foggy
foggy
foggy
foggy
foggy
foggy
foggy
foggy

you're a door without a key

a field without a fence

you made a holy fool of me

and i've thanked you ever since

and if she comes circling back

then we'll end where we begun

like two pennies on the traintrack

that the train crushed into one

but if i'm a crown without a king

if i'm a broken open seed

if i come without a thing

i've come with all i need.

what happens now?

and settling tastes

like a new house

a new place

and missing your bed

and all of your friends

the way widows miss their dead

but theres a light in the window

all night

from the street

and the shuffle of feet

and a place that is waiting

to come and take hold of me

and keep me safe and warm

when someone gets you

who isn't me

beautiful things

mo better