Dear Kelly Arbuckle, you're Golden.

Dear Kelly,

I was thinking of jewelry last night before I fell asleep, and I've come to a conclusion;

I believe there's not a whole lot of pairings I like more than your little golden Ampersand earrings and little golden Scissor necklace. You should take a picture. That would be lovely.

Oh, and it's your turn, in case you've forgotten. I don't care what you write, Lady, just write something!

[This photo is unrelated, but neat.]

[Oh, and I did not take it because I was too busy taking one of my own with my phone.]

[My friend Matthew Marand took this of me.]

[Also, it's in the Dan Flavin gallery.]

[Which is basically a branch of the Menil.]

I'm Still Writing.

At least, I am trying to.

I wrote four poems tonight. I wanted to share them somewhere, but at first, I didn't know where.

Then I thought of you.

And the blog. Well, when we first started the blog. That funny text conversation that led up to it.

I miss you.

And I thought maybe you'd like for me to pop in and try and keep you abreast of my life.

Well, this is my life at this exact night, these are the thoughts I felt someone needed to hear.

Or maybe that I needed for someone to hear.

Four Poems from January 7th, 2010.

At the corner of Overlook and Misleading

I walk along the street in the cracks of the concrete and I go marching down that lane al on my own. I walk down and inside and along these cracks onto which the likes of you dare not venture, my friend.

Spelling is an error only the blind man makes?
What kind of mockery is this?

Cracks in the beauty

Or beauty in the cracks?

They are broken like the souls of the people of the city who tread upon it.

They being these concrete paths slabs of self rightousness and survival of the fittest…

Or natural predisposition.

(Or supernatural at that.)

Beauty in all that stands beneath us?

What kind of trickery have you, strange fool?

Beauty in the cracks that surround us!

Beauty in the cracks we let ourselves fall into/1

That we’re drawn into.

That we climb into!

The beautiful caverns in which we immerse ourselves

And better yet

Our souls, my friends.

A Mean Case of the Ons and Offs

We are all here at once in this very place.

This rickety place it shakes

And turns

And roars past.

This tricky, odd place

Of ons ad offs.

That is our ride. We are schedules

Full of ons

And offs.

And we ride at rest

Or in panic

Or hurry.

Sometimes, we ride in a daze.

Sometimes still, we are not inside,

But rather,

It is our vehicle that surrounds us.

We are flying over the pavement and everything is a bright blur while

We

Soar.

Soar to a

Stop

…And the rest of us,

on to the next.

We are ons.

And we are offs.

They write stories about capturing moments like our love is.

Memories like a double exposure

On a darkened plane

With nothing but the night sky

Beneath

The rising sun in the rearview.

Silver spoons and Golden combs

Misty shores and brush fires

You are, in this picture of mine,

A prince

In a red Cadillac from the 50’s

With aviators

And wind-brushed hair

And Golden California skin

With warm wooden fireplace eyes

And a smile sex on the beach brings.

Music in your love

Wind all over our bodies

Sun in our hearts and behind

Our eyes

They meet

And for a moment

If just

A moment…

We are the sun setting and the click of the shutter

And the wind gliding over the ocean and the hood

And the sun glinting off of a pair

A pair

Of sunglasses.

They write stories about capturing moments like our love is.

We Can’t Afford Not to Be Our Own Gods

Flights of stairs

Flights of fancy

Flights of stares

And fares

And dares.

We arrive

In glitter

And we are

Gilded

With golden chocolate.

They devour us

Sliver

By sliver.

We relish their teeth

We crave their tongues

We need their thirst

Their longing

Their souls.

We fight to be devoured

Because here and now

Everyone wants to be devoured

In a manner most becoming of anything

New

And undone

Before.

We come undone at them clawing us apart at the seams

Yet we throw ourselves

At the slobbering jowls of the beasts.

Opening My Mouth...

Dear Kelly,

I am not in a good place. I feel so entirely fucked up right now, it's really hard for me to even consider a starting point. I have nof rame of reference for anything anymore. I am full of feelings. Sooo many feelings. So much of it. All at once. And right now, what I am feeling is not good at all.

I don't know how to start. But this is me trying. Bear with me.

I almost hate doing this. I have tried to write this so many times and the words never come out right, but maybe that's part of the problem. I just give up before even trying to put it all down because I feel it's wrong. So wrong.

I feel selfish for writing this. I feel selfish for what I am about to do because let's face it, it IS selfish.

I should ask for help. I guess that is what I am trying to do. Reach out. To someone.

But let's face it, I've fucked everything up. I've been so self destructive and I've pushed so many people so very far away. I've pushed MYSELF away. I don't know why. I don't know how to explain it. I need to think more about it or maybe write more about it or at least try. I don't know anymore. I don't know WHAT is good for me.

Look, I want to apologize. Above all else I feel everyone I know deserves a big gigantic apology from me for my behavior... for all of the shit I have put them through.

You especially. Jesus. I didn't even know you were graduating, and I wanted to be there and have a special gift all made (and not lost in the disaster zone I call a room...). And I didn't even know. And now it's come and gone. And we don't talk anymore and it has been my turn to write in here for the longest time, but I have not written anything. Nothing!

I've tried to write this, or something like this, but everytime I finish I get to the "submit" button and chicken out... I am so afraid I'll do that again this time...

I'm promising right here and now that I will at least hit enter. I mean... No. No, I won't delete it afterwards either. I am just going to let this stay.

But like I said I feel so god damned selfish. And I am. Jesus.

I have been so down and it's awful... Mainly because when I get like this, this upset or bad or self destructive or whatever, I feel like I should call someone. but then I think of who I could call, someone who I can talk to, who wouldn't feel burdened, but everyone I know that fits this description is mad at me... At least, I see it that way. I'm afraid that even the people I know I should be able to call wouldn't want to hear it. And even if they did, it would be a pity thing. And I don't want anybody to feel like I'm guilt tripping them or unloading on them or using them as a tissue or whatever.

Jesus. Like I said, I don't know what I want because I have to fucking frame of reference. I don't even know how this happened... I guess it was alot of things all at once. Maybe that and a mix of things I had put off or just bottled up. But God... I wish I knew what it was I was really trying to say. I'm so sorry. So, so sorry. And I hate this.

I've been getting these really strong, really terrible urges lately and they won't stop. No matter how much I try to distract myself or try to do things to cheer myself up or avoid it... It always comes back. Late at night, alone in my bed. This feeling begins in the pit of my stomach and eats away at me. It feels like an emotional ulser. Fuck...

I'm in a bad place. I've dug myself into this hole and maybe it's time I start calling for help. Maybe it's time I swallow my pride and my fears and just open my throat and let something out...

I don't know. I wouldn't blame anyone if they just let me stay down here for the rest of my life. And in a way, I feel like I dug the hole, I should be the one to get me out... You know? I mean, what right do I have to even think about asking for help? That's so stupid! I'm nineteen for God's sake. I should be able to fix this.

But I'm afraid. I don't know if I can trust myself anymore.

I hate this.

I wish I had something better to write, I wish I could write wonderful happy congrats things about your graduation and whatnot, but it it so hard to see those things right now. That's so selfish, I know. Yes. I am repeating myself.

I don't know what to do.

I don't know what to say.

Here I am. Opening my mouth and praying to I don't know what that whatever noise comes out is loud enough and audible enough to make SOMETHING happen...

Something...

I love you so much. I miss you. I'm sorry.

-Alee

I don't know these people

Alee,

Do you know who these people are? Because I have no idea.

I took this picture at the Butterfly Exhibit at the Natural Science Museum. We were coming around this curve near this random water fall and there they were. I figured since they were posing for a picture anyway I could take their picture as well. So I did. And like it.

I like the light in this picture. And that the family actually looks like they like each other. But who knows, they may be really good at pretending.

I don't really know what the point is. Maybe it's that I'm ready to go back to RenFest so I can take pictures of random strangers and post them on the internet. I'm getting a shot of the Storm Trooper this year (I knew he existed!).

~Kelly

circus

Alee,

Britney Spears once wisely said, "There are only two types of people in world/The ones that entertain, and the ones that observe". And while her punctuation may be appalling, she is mainly correct.

On Friday night we went to Sherlocks to see the Space Rockers. From what I can tell, they are basically two types of people in the world: the ones that make fools of themselves and the ones who watch and laugh.

Basically the premise is that they are superheroes from outer space sent to earth to give us rock. It's silly and hilarious. And not rock at all, but oh well.

The best part is the fans. There are people taking pictures with them during breaks and, my personal favorite, people standing in front of the stage, finger in the air, looking at the singer like he is Steven Tyler. That's when I pulled out the camera.

The blue blob in the picture above is the dancing guy who gets tired and has to stop. He likes to dance alone and bring back moves from the 80s. Only he can't quite remember them.

Here is is sitting. I think he was tired again:

I'm kind of in love with this picture and the strange sadness of it all. I also like the normalcy of the band standing around on the stage during the break, except they are wearing superhero from outer space costumes.

I got this idea for a story about the Space Rockers and I'm going write it soon.

One for the road:

Excuse me while I wave my towel around to the music. What?

~Kelly

So Much.

Kelly,

I have way too much to tell you. I'm upset today, and it has not been a very good week, and the weather is not helping, and I want to delete the story I wrote you and write a new and better one because that one is far too long and silly anyways.

Okay.
Now I'm going to speak with breaths in between my sentences.

I miss you! And I'm going to surprise you soon. Very soon. I hope you're excited.

I am!
It's weird being on my own... At this point in my life, there is just too much to wrap up into one blog.

On a completely different note, here's a picture I took that I really like;

It reminds me of an old microphone. I titled it "Center Stage at the Midnight Jazz Cafe."

I'm really into photography lately, and particularly darker, more abstract stuff right now at least. But I think I probably need to take more pictures like this;

Because this one is happy and makes me want to smile. Sometimes, I think it is harder to really make something substantially meaningful out of a smile or something light than a frown or something dark. But I think that's why I like this picture so much.

Anyways.

Write on!

-Alee

I Wrote You a Story.

Kelly,

I wrote you a story.
It's a bit long, but it's an easy read, I promise. :)
It goes like this:

Once upon a time, there was a little girl in a little red dress.
Most days, she liked to play and frolic just like other little girls of her age, but some days the little girl was quite forlorn.
Once upon the same exact time, there was a little lady who had little feet and liked to wear shoes that didn't match the rest of her outfit.
Most days, the lady didn't make it out of the stacks before sunset because she was a Librarian, and a very thourough one at that.

One day, the little girl found herself quite forlorn and feeling very sad and alone.
She was waiting for her Mother to pick her up from the Library and her Mother had more important things to do. As the little girl waited on the benches in the parking lot thinking about how scary it got after the sun set, a traveling clown passed her by. He did not speak, and neither did she.
The clown had a big, blue, gloopy tear painted on his face.
The girl had real tears running down her face.
They were both sad, but the clown had something the little girl in the red dress didn't. This traveling clown happened to have helium and balloons. He made a smile appear on his face, and he pointed to the heavens as if to say, "Eureka!"
Then, he reached into his pocket, and pulled out a bright red floppy balloon. He wiped the real tear from the little girl's cheek and inflated the balloon.
She sniffled and wiped her nose on her little red sleeve. He gave her the balloon.
The little girl tried to make a smile appear on her face, but it was very hard because she was very sad and her tears were very real. The clown saw this and felt his heart droop. He pat the little girl on the head and honked his big red nose at her and waved goodbye with a big, blue, gloopy tear running down his cheek.

On this very same day, the lady Librarian had managed to finish all of her work early. She was the happiest lady in the world at that moment.
She breathed a sigh of relief, and her little mismatched shoes clicked and clacked as she made her way triumphantly down the hall and out the doors of the Library. She didn't even have to try to make a smile appear on her face.
As she was going to her little red car, she looked at the little girl in the red dress with the red balloon on the benches in the parking lot. She saw tears in the little girls eyes. Her smile faded when she saw this. She tried to make a smile appear on her face again, but it was hard because the little girl was so very sad.
The little lady Librarian did not know what to do.
She looked into the little girl's watery eyes, and when she realized those watery eyes were looking right back, she just waved to the little girl. The little girl waved back with her free hand.
The Librarian could do nothing but turn and head to her little red car.
A real tear was forming in the corners of both eyes.
The little librarian was getting into her car, when she thought out loud to herself for no particular reason at all,
"When I have a daughter, I'm going to dress her in little red dresses all the time. And I'm going to give her balloons. And I'm going to wipe her tears away..."
The librarian got into her car and wiped away a tear from both of her cheeks.
She looked at the little girl.
The little girl looked back.
They waved, and the librarian left.

The End.

It's sad, and it's waaay too long, but I feel like it's right. And I hope you liked it, despite all the gloopy tear bits.
I miss you, Lady.

Alee

P.S.
You+Me+Bowling=SOON.