Wednesday, July 13, 2011


i stuffed in some stuff from the fridge to my bag and the cats hopped in. now for my painstaking journey to Chi's house. Oh God, 5 seconds. I almost died. I could have tripped on the air and hurt myself. I was so worried.

I make myself laugh.

"Thanks for coming!" she closed the door behind me as i stepped in, the cats hopped out and pranced over to her livingroom. "what did you bring?"
"anytime sis. I brought a few things. i picked up some fish today to treat the kitties and i brought some hamburger meat, and some oatmeal."
"Oatmeal? What the hell?"
"i like to throw it. i thought we could throw it at cars after we eat" i smiled at her and she smiled back and gave me the "Chena, you're retarded, but i love you anyway" face. sometimes, i think i live for that face.

We ended up making a home-made version of hamburger helper. she burned the "fucking macaroni," so i made some more and added the meat and after experimenting with pretty much every seasoning ever heard of, we practically made taco flavored mac and cheese. grilled fish for the cats and brownies are now planned.

"i saw you while i was on the bus" i muttered through a really hot scoop. "were you okay?"
"yeah, i was fine?" she practically spit out macaroni and sprinted from her seat to chase a moth flying next to the light then she sat back down as if it didn't happen. "why do you ask?"
"i dont know, i just had a feeling something might have happened. you looked, you looked almost scared."
"i'm not afraid of him... it's not like he hits me or anything..."
"i know that Chi, i never said he did, i'm just afraid he hurt you or something. you hadn't shown that look in your eye for a really long time..."
"we're great. we had an awesome day." she created a silence by using her fork to clank against the sides of her bowl and then put it in the sink and went to wash her hands. it always bothers me when she wont talk to me about thinks, it makes me think they may be worse than they are. "hey let's start on the brownies! i wanna throw oatmeal at cars" she smiled sweetly. you cant resist her, she's just too cute. inside and out. i smiled back and set the box on the counter. she started grabbing the bowls and spoons and i went to get extra chocolate and milk for the mix. we hastily mixed it and poured it in a pan and i made the minute oatmeal in the microwave. we gave eachother the look and smiled and grabbed our bowls.

there was a hill up behind our building and if you walk all the way up, you can get to the highway. "okay." i looked at my phone. "we have 15 minutes. whoeverhitsthemostwindshieldsinthenext15minuteswins. and back windshields are double points. ready.set.GO!"
we were so excited and it was so much fun! we were nice enough to only aim at the passenger sides, to what we call "prevent wrecks." in reality, its just as distracting and makes virtually no difference.
she won by 2 points. we would have been tied if she hadnt got frustrated and flung out the entire bowl onto the highway, she hit the back windshield of a car and got her 2 points that beat me. we both have horrible aim with oatmeal. i guess it didnt help that it was cold, dark and windy either, but that made it more fun. we smiled as we made small talk and then decided the best idea would be to roll down the hill as if we were logs, because we were in our minds, just for a little while. but you know, that's okay.


our brownies were perfect as soon as we got home. after we changed out of our grass-matted clothing, and into some PJ's we decorated them with candy and frostings then sat down to cruise channels on TV. She cut her brownies into hearts and iced them in a checkered pattern. i cut mine into a kitty shape and colored it with mini m&ms. it was pretty good. i gave her licorice whiskers.
we were watching Freaks and Geeks. At the part where Bill guesses what Niel found on the edge of his bed, and Bill says "a turd?" And Niel says "Yes, Bill. A turd." 
i just always liked that part. i think i just like the word turd, and other related terms. does that make me strange?
"Seth Rogen looks exactly the same. this show was made when i was like...was i even born?"
"Isn't Seth Rogan like 40?" Malachi chomped out with a big chunk of brownie. She of course combined a bunch of random curse words and threw it at me then laughed about the way it was positioned in my messy, fuzzed up, hair. my face was a blunt "why me?" face, but in the most loving way you can think of. just because it's her. 
We were asleep before we knew it. i woke up around four in the morning and tucked her in on the couch, then i went back over to my apartment and layed down.


The first thing i saw when i opened my eyes was a dainty little turd right in front of me on my pillow, and of course Mazu arrogantly licking himself, sitting ontop of my closed laptop on my desk, next to my bookshelf. i collect dictionaries, thesauruses and encyclopedias. i only have a few actual stories. i'm not so interested in reading other stories, i'd rather make my own.
for me, books make a little bit of extra money. it's nice, i think. i get money from doing alot of random jobs all the time. there's a 50 cents book sale every tuesday at the thrift store, so i usually spend about twenty dollars on buying books. i fix them up at my house, i have a good printer as a gift from my grandma that makes photo quality prints, so i re-cover the books and help them look like new. i let Malachi read the ones that she wants, and then after i'm done covering them, i sell them to the second hand book store up by the cafe and they give you 10$ for a nice looking book. so i spend 20 dollars, and get 40 books. then i make about 400$ after re-covering them. i think its a good deal, and it's kinda fun. that could pay for my rent and bills, but i save it for back up instead. i actually have to sell 2 three different book stores because they run out of money. most people bring in shit books. they look so bad that not even i would buy them, and i settle for about anything.
besides books, i help out at the cafe on wednesdays and play shows there with the band sometimes if they need back up bass or rhythm guitar, sometimes vocals, so does Chi. these 30 year old guys practically beg her to play tambourine, she seems a little freaked out about it to be honest. I teach an art class on tuesday and thursday afternoons for kids at an elementary school, they're the sweetest kids there, too. other than that, i do the sound and lighting for random shows off of craig's list and i'm the official guitar tuner and polisher for the store up the street. some guy from my old band's dad got me that, who knows how it came to be. i seem busy, but i like my life. it's not bad.
I'm not so sure what Malachi does besides dog-walking, and she doesnt even like it. I dont think she even likes playing that tambourine for those old guys, but it's not bad, and it's money. She's got money saved up from her parents and what-not, they seem to have alot. she loves music and clothes, i think that's what she spends most of her money on, besides movies. i want her to get a job at the theater so she can watch for free, and there's an entire candy bar there she can eat for free. and they have no problem with her teal hair. she's just turned 14, so she can get hired, too. i think she'd like it.

Today is saturday.
Today i get to relax.

Monday, July 11, 2011

i hope she's okay.

Riding in a bus passing by, she sees a friend. who seems to also be with a friend. a boy. she wiped her breath from the window as the bus came to a halt. "malachi?..." she saw her embraced within the arms of a boy, but she saw her dear sister's eyes. you don't need to see tears to know pain, and as thier eyes met, she saw pain. she nearly gets up as the bus shifts back into gear, as Malachi's eyes read "save me" and the bus drives away as she watches from afar, her sister burrying her head back into the arms of the boy she loves, yet still knowing something isn't right. where is her mind?


i hopped down the stairs from the bus bubblingly, as if my feet were almost afraid to hit the ground. the air was crisp, like breathing in shards of ice. like something from a nightmare, but a bit more soothing. soothing, unlike my thoughts for the moment.

i'm so worried about her...

that boy...i don't know him so well. he reminds me of mine, in the way that he pains her. when i see them, they look so happy. they hold hands, they hug, they shop together at the mall,  they always hang out, and they seem fine. then later on, she calls me crying from her side of the apartment, in the middle of the night, begging to come over and sleep in with me because she's so afraid that he'll hurt her. it's like i'm her only barrier... he's like her evil spirit, like the kind that follow you, like a shadow, yet in front of you as a human; looking so nice and normal. it's confusing, but i do know how she feels. 

i unclipped the key from my neckless.
                           it made a tidy little snap.
                                           i unlocked the door, and i opened it.

i shuffled off my shoes and hung up my scarf and jacket. i set my guitar case next to the closet as i brushed myself off, i picked it up again and i sat down on my couch. that's all my livingroom is, is a couch. and a tv. it's next to the kitchen. i own 4 bowls, 4 cups, 4 spoons, 4 knives, 4 forks, 4 cups, 4 plates, 4 of each size of tupperware, a food processor, juicer and a pitcher. and that's all i need. they're all color coded. purple for me, teal for malachi, dark red for scott, and a blank white for a random guest that might not usually come. only two people really come here, the only two i need, so why buy excess?
i took myself upstairs with my case and opened it, and i had taken my bass today. i sat it next to my acoustic guitar, which was next to my electric guitar, which was next to my beloved easel, the easel i've had since i was four that made me love art. i'll never rid of it. a draft blew in and it frightened my cat, so i closed my window and she tucked herself in. she made herself at home in pillow i used to sleep with. she got stuck in a tree and fell onto my balcony and i let her come in her room and she just never left. she's the sweetest kitten. Chi's got one too, she calls it our baby. Unfortunately, her cat makes it's way through our air conditioning ducts and poops on my pillow every morning. i now have a pillowcase for every day of the week. she hasnt missed a day since she got here 3 weeks ago.

here she comes...

i saw her from the window. her feet tapped gently against the concrete, her walk sounds similar to mine. you can tell how she feels before she even walks in, because she walks in different paces and pressures depending on how she feels. from here, i can tell you she's in the best mood she can be in, you could say she was happy, but the glimmer in her eye says she's hurt. 
i watched her open the door to her apartment and walk in, then heard the door shut; gently. it was a soft clapse today. for the most part she's okay.
Mazu hopped on to my bed and looked straight at me with her bright blue eyes. they were like mood crystals. he's like the messenger, he tells me if i should go see Chi or not. she named him after us, part her name and part mine. My name is Azucena, it supposedly means lily in Arabic, although i'm not Arab...
Mazu coughed up some unknown creature onto my rug, which i just cleaned off her shit from. but it's okay, because i like the smell of carpet cleaner. He walked away proudly with his tail in the air, weezing and choking on something. i never know what to do with that cat.

i heard something hit the window and poked out my head. "Chena you wanna eat with me?"
"yeah sis, i'll be there in a second."
She smiled to me, "okay i'm already making stuff you bring things too, okay?" she stuck her head back in. i heard her run down her stairs and a muffled "shit i burned the god damn macaroni! fuck macaron you piece of shit stove ugh!" I shook my head and smiled to myself. 

Oh how i love my sister.


"Lost at a sea of hoplessness and forgetfulness lays my everdying soul, the sound of wind chimes flowing aeridecently through the air. My Breath icey, but warm against his skin. Where is my mind? 
Lost in a jungle of hatred and pain, climbing through tree's that are everbinding and dark. Broken hearts lay, crushed beneath my feet as i walk along the broken bones of what use to be me.
The air is black. My skin is cold. Slowly loosing myself in my own reflection. In the mirror, stands a girl who looks nothing like me, but, it is me. 
The inside of my soul is deep and depressing while the outside is only hiding what cannot be seen. Where is my mind."