i don't know if it's funny or heartily depressing
how quickly things change.
or, rather how slowly everything seems to move
but all of a sudden, you feel everything is completely different.
so, it's not fast at all. just a slow moving picture with a
flash flash stop in the middle of things. and an oh.
a breathing period.

I'm not sure if it's a choice i'm making, or if it's everything
else that seems to make it's mind up for me.

i wish i was stronger than i was.
but these emotions have their way.
a rocking jagged way of screwing me over.

i always have the back and forth
of thinking i'm in control of things.
as if, as IF i made a kind of move,
then things, THINGS would be OK.
but i would never make a move,
because that's not how i am.

i'm shaking, it's so cold.




the love has been lost.
and we mourn.

i'm leavin' the pink.
it makes even more sense
that the photograph is no longer
in existence.

it's cold in the bedroom.
the deep breath
before



or



which is next?

feeling skinless today

a pile of rotten oranges
flocked with flies

my swings are not mild
never wrapped in small childish bows
but are a glass in the process of shattering
a balloon bent on suicide

not one of you can move me

all chatter anchors the body deep down
too low
to choke anything up but tiny gasps of air

oh wait.
i'm better than 8.15.
thank you s.b.

a shower so i don't scream.

i fell off my bike yesterday.
it hurts this morning.
but it was my own fault.


last night could have gone a lot better.

I woke up
hanged and dry
cracked as a silver bone
shivering in early spring

If I could stretch out to you
I would throw my muscles into awkward angles,
my orange knees in a moonshine embrace

the soft finger is what we want.
a constant hum of daffodils.
a smart point to zero upon.

or a reddish blue,
a white hole to pull us beyond an opening of skin and bones
to the heart that doesn’t exist in the sense we want it to

I would walk.
I could sing in square notes to
proclaim my arms belong around your ribcage

Why do I want you ?

It’s the area we leave behind,
the trace of little footsteps.
a push against the wall,
a slight movement of the hips

I’m all yours
again
and again
Until you say
no.
no!
no.

dasha

and so it begins...
(back in one week.

it's almost the end of july.
short (mais long as it could be).
stop!
the same.

sitting needles.
You know, the ones that prick your thighs
and whisper "do something"
And you sit and wonder.
what exactly am i supposed to do?


porch nights.
bed nights.
alone nights.
fight nights.
sit & cry nights.
also. another person nights.
down & together.
touch them,
file them away,
for later use (remembrance).


"Cut out all these exclamation points. An exclamation point is like laughing at your own joke. "
f.s. fitzgerald

share your bod.
live some life.
yeah yeah yeah.

a small frog lodges itself in my throat. a dry scream. a call for help.
wide-eyed and worthless, what will you do?
sleep now. close your eyes and then puff your way into my lungs.
lay there. lie and lie. do not open your mouth.
I die. You know I could. And you would die too, grafted into my skin,
my cells, my awkward limbs, the unfortunate body which
has to move and convince a stranger I am worthy of love.

little green monster, tiny hidden peek of rumbles and soft skin
I repent, I take it back, open your lips and tell me
I am a bright piece in this awful wreckage.
and tell those others, please tell them,
they have no business here.
I do not want them anymore,
or ever again.

----------
written sunday night.
today is tewzday (it's really not monday)
tomorrow will be windzday.
& on & on & on.


-----------------------------------
(buzz for a cliche)
-coll, this is a reminder that something was
here, that you need to remember, but don't
need to type out in full-

odd or even.

if we subtract you,
it's a clean 100th victory.
it's hard to say whether
or not i've always admired
multiples of ten
or if i do now,
because it doesn't include
a plus 1.

-----
coffee grounds. stomach pain.
5-6 moths saved.
where the hell is leo?
or megatron for that matter.

here.

it's raining.
always.

i had an intense night. thank god for Danielle, wonder woman
for talking to me and letting me talk.
crash & burn baby.
drank nearly a whole bottle of wine.

when i lived alone,
i would have these nights,
sit in the cave
and not call anyone.
it's just odd f or me to consistently think
that strength lies in utter silence.

purge. purge. purge.
think about new things.

I'm not feeling so good about certain things.
but sharing a room with nick isn't so bad,
and having roommates for the first time in
two years is a little ridiculous but really fun.

i laugh a lot more when i'm around nick,
which is probably healthy for the ice queen.

i had a dream about King Daradas.
i woke up, typed it in (I somehow knew how to spell it), because i wondered. I've never heard of it before.
and:

the Daradas were a people who lived north and north-east to the Kashmir valley. This kingdom is identified to be the Gilgit region in Kashmir along the river Sindhu or Indus.

and "daradaraya" means "King of the Daradas."

interesting.

i like to consider these my audition photos for a B-movie about
a cocaine-addicted ex-child star who grows up and must live
on the streets. the ending of course will be uplifting and heartwarming as i overcome
obstacles no one thought i could . i will show THEM, i say. because as we all know,
ITS THAT EASY! all i have to do is decide to change and it happens, as i chase the American Dream
through the gutters of new york city.


a few scenes will pay homage to Whatever Happened to Baby Jane.



and i will also fall in love of course;
i will push my partner away multiple times,
but then come to realize that everybody needs somebody
and no one wants to die alone.

voice message i left myself (through nick's phone i imagine):
"colleen, hello, hello colleen, what are you doing? you have no life. and
everything sucks about your life. done. done."

I'm feeling last night, this morning.

jumpin' on the cheryl-(haiku) train

(1)

lazy tangerines
and mustard cream romances
sunbathe in july

(2)
kiss me on the neck
slick, hot, and hungry peach lips
pocket them and go

He said
Done.

i have to read myself into exhaustion before i can fall asleep.

also.
tiny trip (2) photos.etcetc.

http://goodbyegreatheart.tumblr.com/

goodbye yellow.

any of you who have seen my bedroom would have found this hard
to believe if i hadn't taken a photograph.


and hello other home.
and ella rose ( bro & company came over)




and sleeping in a room i painted when i was 12.

the lights went out today for a few hours.
it's funny when no electricity is a novelty.
i sat and read by the daylight.
when it got too dark
i sat and looked out the window.
i thought about writing down how i was
feeling, but instead i just thought it.
more often than not i don't write it down
i just create sentences in my head of what it is, how things are,
how i think they should be (obviously imagined)
but then i think, this is how everything should be.
i have gotten over a few things in the past
days here mostly alone.
i have crossed things out and marked them off my list.

i stepped on a snail today.
i was singing walking in the parking lot
and heard a crunch.
i smashed a snail,
and wanted to throw up.

how to not smoke a pack a day when you are spending every day by yourself.

dance.


make dinner (homemade soup & croutons!)


fall in love with billie piper.


stick them in your mailbox so
you have to walk outside to get them.


adopt another persona.
one which doesn't have bad habits
and finds pleasure in cleaning her bedroom.

read my journal tonight (this is from two years ago).
bizarre because the words remind me of how i felt,
but i don't feel it anymore.
so many things have happened.

cried over reality television.
drinking pbr because its cheap
and i didn't get denied for an expired license.

really wonderfully warm today.

getting sent the lives of new york city,
in a small town.

am not supposed to talk.

i took a walk today (its 88 degrees in geneseo), for the past two
i've pretty much shut myself up in my house.
the town does become ghost like when the students leave.

i walked by the normal places,
and i think i've written about this before
but all of the things we've done- I can still see us doing it,
as if i'm watching a movie clip over and over.
we'll be there, and we will always be there.
on the porch, on the roof, sitting on the benches.
i feel sad, yes, but I also feel some sort of relief.
catharsis.

I will probably read for awhile and then watch eight movies
to pass the time.

so.
all my women have gone,
and i have a complete cry face,
red cheeks, red eyes.
it's hard to stop,
even though i know i will see them.
it's just an end of one thing,
but it hurts nevertheless.

i did complain. again and again.
but ultimately, like we talked about,
i will never be in a place like this again.

i'm drinking wine tonight,
watching a movie, and
making soup even though its too hot,
because the smell of onions makes me feel ok,
although i will most definitely cry over those too.

i get it.
i get it.
no.
no. no.
but why?
no.
i get it.

colleen one: what are you doing?
c-2: uhh, umm, taking pictures of myself?
c-1: shouldn't you be doing something more productive?
c-2: uhh, umm.
c-1: you're a tool.
c-2: i know.
c-3: im a zombie and will eat your organs.


c-3.


tool.

writing/revising a fiction piece is akin to sticking needles in my eye.

birds are singing.
I'm awake.

f.m. organs- C. pustulka

reign yourself in girl!
do some work!
smoke less cigarettes!
clean your apartment!
stop having ridiculous conversations in
your own head!
stop thinking about your pillows and blankets!
just do it.

((AND NO HOVERING!))

nothing was figured out tonight.

everything makes me cry.

whatev.

simply
slowly

your hand is just another
fuck in this wild eyed mountain

if I could scream I would take my vocal chords
stretch them across the water
& sing into spilled disinterests

and yet,
I WISH!

but the letters are cold
and ugly in their angles

every piece is soaked thin
and if I squeezed it out
only small whimpers would
sink to your skinny finger
wrapped in mine

remember?

Not you.
NOT YOU.
yes.
yes!
you.

i actually love doing (certain) work.
even though part of me hates it.
I'm going to have to join a book club
or something.

today was the last day of classes.
celebrate?
no.
sit in my house
listening to sad music
and writing about
ERASURE.
BRILLIANT!
I CANT WAIT
TO READ
EVERYDAY.
I'M ALSO READING
THE LAST SAMURAI.
(so wait,
no homework. reading.
in the sun.
i'm ok with this.
but I'll miss a lot
specifically certain teachers
and my yellow house ((home will be odd after all of this time))
but I still have three
weeks here, two of which will be ALONE!)

i have one full week of classes left.
1 weak + 2 daze.

everyone has so much to do
before it's over.

my friends keep poppin out the phrase
"that's the last time we will (insert action here)"

i don't really know what to think.

my senior creative writing reading is on friday.
i feel a bit anxious about that.

horrifyingly and hilariously unattractive.

(pink eye)
(really gross)

absolutely swell.

http://goodbyegreatheart.tumblr.com/

GUESS WHAT?
I HAVE PINK EYE!
IT'S REALLY GREAT!
(see a picture at the link above).

i spent the day reading.
first outside in the sun,
and then in my bed under blankets.
today was a good day.
and tonight wasn't so bad either.
porches & cigarettes &
butterfly abdomen.

connection?
versus.
holed up in one place;
my whole winter.
i'm falling fast.
not sure where to go
from here.

i want to scream.
i wont though,
i will sit complacently
and then fall asleep.

in all honesty, this hurts.
i don't know what else to say,
other that it's ridiculous and completely fruitless.

it would have been CHOMP CHOMP CHOMP

(n.m.)
we have a lot in common.
it kind of turns me on.

there is a large spider inhabiting the open space under my sink.
I don't know how i feel about his living arrangement, but
will not evict him from his new found home.

update: i have not seen said spider in days. this has led to slight anxiety, yet only enough that i check to
see if the spider if hiding in the shower ready to fall on my head when i am most vulnerable.

tonight

as i walked home, i imagined kicking in every glass window on the street.

what bothers me is that i can't figure out what is bothering me.
and when i think i might know,
it makes me ashamed and feel less strong.
but i also think it might be something deeper
that i haven't figured out yet.

girls.

fiona


emily

taken last semester. when it was warm.
it will be warm again soon. tomorrow even.

I started reading the novel Erasure by Percival Everett.
absolutely brilliant thus far.

in other news.
i got my period today along with abdominal pains,
and i think i have insomnia.

!!!

My good friend julie gave me an early birthday present last night.
I was shaking because I was so excited.

a little lost

it's the first beautiful day here in awhile.
the sun made my legs hot.

I think the feeling sensation, which includes touch, is one of the few
things that makes me feel like I'm actually rooted in something.
often it really feels like I'm just floating around, occasionally
popping my head up once in awhile. This may not be true, or may not appear true...
it's hard to describe. especially since we are touching things every day, right now even.
maybe its just certain kinds of touches.

tactile.
i'm always touching buildings, trees,
peoples' arms, i have to touch covers on books if i admire the art.
i guess it just makes me feel closer to it, even if its inanimate.
it's like trying to suck out the essence of everything that went into
the creation of the object.

I can't wait to start painting again on my own terms, I feel unable to do it right now.
art has become somewhat of a drag, a chore.

dasha fox/ claRe danes weekend.

great in so many ways.



these two taken by Joey P. http://www.flickr.com/photos/paladijm/
I think nick looks so tough in the left picture.


-------------------------------------------------

love.

Today,
We leave for Dasha weekend.
Syracuse, Philadelphia, Brooklyn.
I'm very excited even though we will be in a car for many hours
(although this too has its perks, being with them boyz).

somehow my body clock or through divine intervention
i woke up this morning for class without having set my alarm-
i had to be there today, so thanks to god and/or my body.
we read poetry, so now i have about seven new writers to look up,
I'm a geek for this stuff, so it sort of made my morning.

Sonia Sanchez
Haiku
we are sudden stars
you and i exploding in
our blue black skins


I need to do some laundry
and figure out what I'm bringing for the weekend.

get to it!

can you feel the love tonight?

Background information: I was a little out of my mind last night (under-statement)

I walked from the gas station after buying cigs,
it was pouring and felt perfect. I wanted to lay in the open space
next to my house but knew somehow it was a little too cold for that.
as i turned around to walk back inside, I lost my balance, slipped
onto my back and staid in that position for a few minutes ( I find when I
fall, my body and mind go into a slight state of shock.)
so ironically, i got what i wanted, even if it was due to my inability to function correctly.
If someone was watching me throughout this whole ordeal, I would have undoubtedly looked
like a maniac.

I'm also channeling my inner-lioness today as a result
of going to bed with wet hair.

second figure study.

get this sickness away!
(but at the same time i have habits
that contribute to its continuation and I'm aware
that i make my body worse. over and over.)

why is the bedroom so cold?
sing it.

I always feel as if my mind is reeling after I get out of African American Lit (and in it).
it races too fast in order to put together a coherent thought.
sometimes i can squeak out a tiny phrase.
I'm disappointed in myself for missing class on friday because of abdominal pains and a disfunctional brain and in result understanding to a lesser degree what Cultural Appropriation is.
I guess I'll keep searching.
Today in classes I recognized two unconscious assumptions I had made,
two that I would normally probably recognize in someone else (this is great and horrifying at the same time, but absolutely essential).
I also had my fiction critique. I have to digest this, because many people give
completely conflicting suggestions as to what they believe needs to be added or taken away
(are some people more compatible with my emotional state? with the way my mind forms ideas, so that confusion seen by other people, is not confusion seen by others? I guess this is one reason why we need all of these differing opinions/perceptions. I will undoubtedly talk about this later, because I'm always thinking about this, see: my professor for af. amer. lit, and different students in this class, Fun Home by Alison Bechdel, and "pivoting the center.")
.

I stayed up until 5 am last morning, drifting in and out of sleep.
it would be both embarrassing and incredibly interesting to have my thoughts recorded during this period of time
(as i think with anyone else's, although i highly doubt anyone would share their recordings with me) .

.

tonight I cleaned my dishes, a little bit of the yellow apartment, and am making soup.
normally i clean on friday nights so i was a little thrown out of whack.
but music and wine combine for the ultimate cleaning frenzy (which for me, consists of little more than shifting things around) and food making.

.
we had a show on saturday.
at first i was incredibly uncomfortable with bright lights and minor anxiety,
but it turned out ok, and dare i say fun?
until i was overwhelmed by my sweat and lack of nicotine.
but, over all, it was of course worth it, it always is.
and there were all different sorts of people there (young - old)
.

I just want to read all of the time,
in the summer heat.
this winter is breaking my bones and
filling me with an awkward solitude.

.
I've also been thinking about the boy that passed away this weekend here.
i tried to write it out.
but i don't know how to express it in words.

don't lose yourself.
because in this you can. it's easy?
and what is yourself anyway?
being with someone else?
no.
it's the spill on the floor.
it's the smoke on your lips.
it's the period.
it's the dream you had last night.
it's the every day that you go through because
you think you will make some sort of difference.
it's the subway and looking at other people (imagined).
it's the writing.
it's the IMAGINED, the dreams.
it's the beauty, even though every thing seems ugly and disgusting.
it's you, even though it's not real.

it's doing this,
every day.
even if it's painful.
because,
it's worth it.

i know it has to be.

(new order- your silent face)

edit:
I;m really horrible.
i need to do everyone a favor and
keep my mouth shut sometimes
or see:
all of the time

i have cramps.
no excuses.
last night.
no excuses.
seriously.
get it together, girl.

this is an awful photograph,
but it's the first figure study
I've done for watercolour this semester.
(see it a tiny bit better at
http://www.flickr.com/photos/cievenn)

i'm embarrassed,
and extremely tired.

(i can't believe
how dramatic i can be
sometimes. i don't know
which is actually C.)

the suppression of emotion erupts.
that's a fine word,
ERUPTION.
RUPTURE.
i just looked up
eruption
and
'eruption of teeth' came up-
that makes me feel sort of ill,
but kind of a beautiful simple phrase.

i miss outdoor seating.
today will be 42 degrees,
woke up to the clinks of the
garbage people.

what i'm drinking tastes like oil.
back here and thinking constantly.
the kind of bed where that's possible,
even when not wanted.
i moved the bed around, maybe to get a new perspective,
maybe just to fill the time.
they keep playing the same song upstairs,
i can hear it through the ceiling-
i might play the same song, but louder,
as if a competition can fuel the night (T.I.- whatever you like)
(happening right now)
reading Tom Robbins, Skinny Legs and All.
going to get through,
with Kanye West
and the Kinks.
and sunshine superman,
you know that guy.

i feel sad and tired.
i've been having a hard time with myself for the past few d(alw)ays
and having really odd dreams,
sometimes I'm able to pinpoint where the thoughts may have come from,
i guess i understand a few reasons as to why.

feeling anxious over going back to school and being stuck for four & 1/2 months. and yes, i guess in a way i am taking it for granted in this moment, but it's in my head and body and i can't change it right now. Happiness isn'tthe yellow house in the winter.

I want to go to this someday, I've wanted to for a long time now.

http://www.holifestival.org/festival-of-colours.html

http://images.google.com/images?um=1&hl=en&q=holi+festival+of+colors&btnG=Search+Images