pig tales

little girls never really grow up. 

we're given bigger toys, larger allowances. more expansive wardrobes. tabloids in place of bedtime stories. the princesses we grow to idolize are no longer innocent, but locked away in their ivory towers of fame and money and cocaine.

but I know I'll always be in pigtails.

finally... i'm on my way.

meat market.

I keep trying to remember a time where life was simpler. I keep hearkening back to slight impressions of my childhood; fleeting reminiscences of sunlight or laughter or freedom.

Instead, all I can remember is feeling too small, too powerless. My head wouldn't even reach over counters and my every thought was overlooked.

I still dream of a world where I'd matter -- where my beauty would be celebrated instead of my value being measured by my girth. my mass. my substance. my occupation of space.

beauty should never be empirical.

I wouldn't be a mere sum of my measurements -- like a slab of meat pre-weighed and measured for immediate consumption.

I don't know if finding myself is worth losing myself.

i guess you really wanted something... it just wasn't with me.

A new form of masochism

Focus on the pain.
A dull ache or a deep burn.
Push through the throbbing and concentrate on your next movement.

This has an appealing outcome.
This result is socially acceptable.

The same concept.
A proxy.

We rarely renounce our compulsions.
We simply adapt.

This is new. This is better.
I am new. I am better.

maybe someday.

in a boat, d h lawrence

See the stars, love, 
In the water much clearer and brighter 
Than those above us, and whiter, 
Like nenuphars. 

Star-shadows shine, love,
How many stars in your bowl? 
How many shadows in your soul, 
Only mine, love, mine? 

When I move the oars, love, 
See how the stars are tossed,
Distorted, the brightest lost. 
—So that bright one of yours, love. 

The poor waters spill 
The stars, waters broken, forsaken. 
—The heavens are not shaken, you say, love,
Its stars stand still. 

There, did you see 
That spark fly up at us; even 
Stars are not safe in heaven. 
—What of yours, then, love, yours?

What then, love, if soon 
Your light be tossed over a wave? 
Will you count the darkness a grave, 
And swoon, love, swoon?

narrow as train tracks

i want someone to

look at me
and think
"wow.
she
is
beautiful."



- J

just as a reminder...

we've come so far.


- j

adjectives

a&j

Frail. Tenuous. Dainty. Elegant. Wispy. Delicate.


- A

shakes and breaks

I'm sitting here on my ten -- I feel like life is mediated by intervals of breathing before being forced back underwater.

I really wanted a pastry this morning. I kept thinking of ways to justify it -- but it always came back to thinking of how much my present is affecting my future.

so here it is, a pictorial reminder of why I'm doing this.

>







it is here where I perfect my disappearing act.

- J

treading water

and it's stories like these that extend beyond metaphor:

where meaning is directly conveyed through the action -- life mirrors art mirrors life.


this evening, a and i went for a swim. now, california doesn't get cold. here, the weather can be dancing in the brisk and breezy sixties and people will don jackets and scarves.

tonight was not a warm california night. the wind chill echoed january's breath and whispered of february's imminent approach. it was definitely in the high forties -- the water at least ten degrees colder.

my skin was freezing so hard it felt burned. i wanted to scream and cry the second i jumped in -- feet first -- my legs felt like chicken and it was pins and needles everywhere.

"just keep treading!" a instructed. as i felt my breath catching in my chest, i was renewed by her composure. i didn't understand why a native californian was schooling me in the realm of temperature adjustment.

and i'll just use that same line i tell myself every time she emerges with some hidden talent:

maybe she learned it in the orphanage.

we swam in circles, treading water for hours. there it was, a minute existential quest imitating life. swimming with a sense of purpose only to achieve the same ultimate end.

i guess we could have chosen drowning.

we asked each other poignant questions. we shared our most secret desires in shallow, sharp breaths as our frigid limbs flailed under water.

the questions and answers i remember:

1. if you could force everyone who had ever doubted you into a room together, what would you say to them?

j - i'd be brief. something like "to those who doubted me, i apologize for not meeting your expectation of failure. to those who loved me, it probably wasn't easy. to everyone, thank you. you all motivated me."

a - ah, that's nice. nicer than i would be. i'd be more vengeful. i'd tell them that they belonged in hell and that they ruined my life, but that i fixed it. then i'd tell them to fuck off and i'd leave them in there for five hours. i'd make them sit on a green couch. get it? no exit?

j - belonged in hell, eh? you should have just quoted sartre. l'enfer est les autres. hell is other people.

a -those bastards wouldn't even get it.

2. what is the one thing you really dislike about yourself?

a - self-sabotage.

j - overcompensation.

3. what outfit will you wear when you get to where you want to be?

a- floral print lacy skirt.

j - high waisted sailor pants with big buttons.

4. what is the one thing that you want in your life? What is your ultimate goal?

J - some bullshit nonsense about happiness without satisfaction. nietzsche's theory of being the dancer as life reveals its music. making life into a work of art. amor fati.

a - i need to discover that ultimate goal. that is my goal. well, since you're going to quote nietzsche, i'm going to draw inspiration from his contemporary: connor oberst.

"Lately I've been wishing I had one desire,
Something that would make me never want another,
Something that would make it so that nothing matters,
All would be clearer then"


then we got so cold our hearts froze over, so we defrosted in the hot tub. a taught me how to sing. she taught me about physical anthropology, and why cold climates catalyze humans being shorter and stockier. why heat makes limbs long and limber.

she's teaching me how to sing.

- j