sum-eul jam-kkan-man meom-chwo bo-se-yo

"hold your breath"

i think i need a hobby
because if you are always doing what you love
i don't think i will love it anymore
and going from 1st to 3rd
is not only confusing
but an inconsequential truth of life

i have a new obsession. It is going to KINKOS at midnightish and while my BFF makes copies of her comic book, i dig through the recycle bin and collect all of the copies that were tossed for a variety of reasons. Tonight I got a poster of Adolph Hitler and a chapter from a text book about gender and sex.



I wrote this tonight. It seems about as meaningful as a sock drawer. Necessary but often forgotten.

Her name was Salvation.
and she bore her own crosses
of sorrow and guilt and the pressure of being born
on any other day
that mattered just as much.

Her fingers bled of honesty
and she lost touch with the world outside
when everything that mattered
happened in the plastic pink house
that was nestled in the corner of her perfect life

She never said a word
and nobody questioned her brilliance
she was the bee
the golden seal
the blue ribbon
and the trophies sealed in glass
that sat on the fireplace mantle
echoing the hum of a broken home

Something happened that changed
and you'd think
that by the way she told it
in a mirage of crayola and oil based vibrations
that she was caught in a tundra
of accidentals
but that wasn't it

She was haphazard around sticky linoleum
and roller skate wheels
the kind that only turn a certain way
for a certain kind of girl
and icecream bars shaped like power puff girls
and it's okay when the bubblegum eyes
roll down the drive way
because they hurt her teeth anyways.

Everything became apparent
to everyone around her
but her face turned purple with the thought
that she wouldn't be allowed
to watch staticy Disney on ice
and eat an entire bowl of potato chips
inside her bedroom closet anymore

And it is so simple
it is so relevant
how much it hurts to stop believing.
The fucking end.

"You are condemned to me."
-Shakira

love always,
LS

Leave Room for the Holy Spirit X 3

1.
Talk about the weather
because the less space between
the mistakes we make
the closer we become
to insignificant truthfulness
and I can't remember the last time
I felt so vulnerable
so much like skipping past the terror
and laughing about how silly it all feels

2.
We talked on the phone for 36 minutes
And even when I lost service
I called you back
and we talked some more
and you told me you didn't know why
and I was okay with it
because it wasn't about you
even though it was
it was dark out
and you laugh at my bad jokes
and I don't feel bad when you confirm
that I'm not that funny
because you still laugh, whole heartedly
and it reminds me of that one time
I painted you a bunch of little red flowers
and you put it on your wall
and we drank spiced chai near midnight
and I chain smoked in your car
and it was okay
even when it wasn't and you had no idea
but it's okay, it's okay.

3.
I was sitting in the 8th row last Sunday evening
Usually we slouch in the back, sleepy eyed and giggly
behind smiling babies and confirming pre-teens
I wore a black dress and ripped jeans
it was first communion at 10am
so we were among the few who didn't attend morning mass
Gustavo plays an electric keyboard organ
that reminds me of the poor girls quinceanera
and Father Jose Luis invites us to be joyous
and I can't help the tugging on the corners of my mouth
and that guy, I forget his name,
from Casa Maria,
is telling us to spit out our gum
and turn our cell phones off
and for a second I can't remember how to make the sign of the cross
and I can't find the right song in the book
it's in English and it's supposed to be in Spanish
but I don't know the words
and I'm so happy
I hold their hands for longer than we are required to
and tia is singing louder than anyone else
and I can't stop the reminder of dashes of ash that are approaching
and the smell of egg dye that makes my face itch
when I close my eyes
it also reminds me of home

love always,
LS

Shihan - This Type Love

of what makes us real

and oh, baby, it's what makes us interesting.

Erotas vs. Korean Black Day

Because sometimes I do just want to put up the yellow flag and say things like "forever"
and nothing really feels as much like love as hand rolled cigarettes or the comfortable silence of two postcoital lovers
but somethings seem to make sense in all the ways they should,
and I don't like it
I mean what I just said
because I read you like a cryptic anthology of Neruda poems,
translated from the Spanish to simplified Chinese
and I can't read Chinese, the hanzi stabbing lines into the paper
gives me a headache
turning an ode to everything into an ode to nothing
and it is constant
these methods of interpretation
I am awkward, yet familiar with the area
but I tend to stumble
when I turn out the lights
and you wouldn't believe how uncomfortable this makes me

Good morning.

Love always,
LS

Best Friends Forever

The luckiest people in the world are those with BFFs, mine is named Claire
Her patron saint is Saint Claire - Patron Saint of Sore Eyes, also know as the Patron Saint of Television

Here are ten reasons why she is my best friend:
1. Everyone thinks she is quiet, but I know the truth and I love it. It's algebraic!
2. She says things like "Let's get a pint of Guiness before class"
3. She always eats my onions and green olives and cabbage and other foods I can't or don't eat when we go out
4. We have the same appreciation for energy drinks and expensive shoes
5. She lets me smoke in her truck, which is, by the way, a Aqua 1961 Chevy Apache
6. We listen to Shakira and she always laughs at my horrible jokes

Buddha says "An insincere and evil friend is more to be feared than a wild beast; a wild beast may wound your body, but an evil friend will wound your mind." Through it all, I have had Clarity, and it's kept me alive.

7. We can pretty much have a serious conversation with out saying a single word
8. I respect her more than anyone else (next to my mami) for her determination, creativity and democratic friendships
9. She actually wears the bracelets I make her, even if they're big and ugly and look like they were made by a five year old
10. We made a myspace for her cat, enough said

Freddie Mercury means it most.
"Ooh you're the best friend that I ever had
I've been with you such a long time
You're my sunshine and I want you to know
That my feelings are true
I really love you
Oh you're my best friend"

I even love her when she yells at me during a heated argument about Harry Potter, and when she forgets to turn off her alarm at 3:47am. That's what best friends are for. I know that when I am old, really old, and wearing tacky tracksuits and chain-smoking 100's and power walking at the mall, I know that we'll still be best friends, forever.

Love Always,
LS

Underneath Your Clothes

I don't really sleep very often
I have artificial and minutely neccessary means to keep me from falling into my own dreams.
The other night though,
in a state of puro exhustion,
we went to prom
and I had two dresses, one was teal and didn't fit well
it made me think of "I adore you because you have made me a whore"
and I didn't like the way it stretched my skin
the second was pink and beautiful and perfect
and fell in curtains around my feet
I wore the later, over a fantastic bodice of lime and black lace

you watched me as I watched you get ready
in front of a thousand mirrors
my skin itched
anticipation
you looked back at me, and smiled
and I could hardly bear my heartbeat echoing behind my ribcage

I woke up feeling sad
because you were beautiful and perfect
the next time I saw you
I blinked, I know only for a fraction of a second
but I saw you, beautiful and perfect
and I remembered why I don't sleep
yet I couldn't help questioning why I don't sleep more

I was unfortunatly inspired to watch "Prom Night in Kansas City" after all was said and done. It wasn't good. It addressed and validified my contempt for humans between the ages of 13 and 19.

Is it okay that I am okay with you seeing me as I am rather than you seeing me as I want to be seen?

Love always,
LS (which come to find out, happens to also be 2/3 of my initials!)

El amor más fuerte y más puro no es el que sube desde la impresión, sino el que desciende desde la admiración

Somewhere lost in systematic irreverence
I found this innevitable reason to improve my penmanship
and use words that give everything away
It isn't accidental;
by chance or maybe-kinda-sort of
I am overwhelmed by the inability to complete an everyday reality
& it reminds me of that Sarah Vaughan song, I can't remember the name
"I've heard it said
that the thrill of romance
can be like a heavenly dream.
I go to bed
with the prayer that you'll make love to me
sad as it seems"
and here goes nothing
everything is unpredictable,
like a few summers ago I went to the Salvador Dali museam in St. Petersburg
it's near the ocean, Bayboro coast
and I stood in front of "One Second Before Awakening from a Dream Caused by the Flight of a Bee Around a Pomegranate"
I've almost forgotten if that was the painting because I was terrified and intrigued at the same time
it could have even been a memory from my painting class
and I could have just been standing in front of "El Matador"
it's hard to say
but all I could thinks was "Salvador loved Gala best, then she ate his heart right from his chest"
and this morning, the relevance of unintelligable infatuaton
led me to a 12 hour dialogue about skin-walkers, generation 911 and the art of saying goodnight
and so finally, I've been thinking about kissing
for another day

And I quote the single girls visual bible, Sex and the City, "There are those that open you up to something new and exotic, those that are old and familiar, those that bring up lots of questions, those that bring you somewhere unexpected, those that bring you far from where you started, and those that bring you back. But the most exciting, challenging and significant relationship of all is the one you have with yourself. And if you can find someone to love the you you love, well, that's just fabulous!"



I can't stop listening to Le Tigre's "Eau D' Bedroom Dancing" - to you i wanna say, youre my thing.

I don't want to write about filmmaking anymore, or being in college, or what-happens next. I want to write about mixing Rockstar Juiced and Naked Green Machine and naming the drink OMG!. I want to write about the holes in my jeans and the current state of my hair. I want to write about cupcakes and dancing; wearing summer clothes and books that make me feel alive. Most of all, I want to write about love; being and becoming.

Goodnight, in all the wrong ways.

Love always,
LS