Sunday, November 6, 2011

burning the future

Yay! Writing! Okay, so I suppose this is inspired by Paper Towns (which is by john green, and fully as awesome and beautiful as he is), but doesn't really have anything to do with the book, but a paragraph in there, which struck me as quite inspirational, namely;

All those paper people- living in their paper houses, burning the future to stay warm. All the paper kids drinking beer some bum bought for them at the paper convenience store. Everyone demented with the mania of owning things. All the things are paper-thin and paper-frail. I’ve lived here for eighteen years, and I have never once in my life come across anyone who cares about anything that matters.
~Paper towns (John Green)


We sit here
Just like we’ve
Been sitting here
Burning the future
For just a little more

We care about nothing
That we should
Or we shouldn’t
We care about not caring
Not even as rebellion
As saving all of our caring
And optimism for a world
Better than this
Dreams have long faded
From our grasp
We burned those ages
When the frost first set in

We are the ones
Because we burn with vigor
We feel nothing
Or we want to, maybe
(Which is nearly the same thing)
To be something that needs
No room for remorse or
In nothingness
And bare survival

Because when you see
Them burn
You’ll never want them
Because dreams
Burn fast and pitifully
They scream and beg
Like dignity is a foreign language
The moment flame touches
They crumble into flakey ash
And fall like they never existed

I cried the first time
We scorched mine
But not because I still wanted them
Or I was sad to see them
I cried out of anger
Unadulterated, pure
That I could have believed
Hope and dreams
Were anything stable
Were anything worth yearning
To come true
If I only hoped
Hard enough

And the rest of them
Glared at me for my
And I think that was
The last thing I

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

I strongly dislike titles

Hi! Okay, so this is not really a good poem. Not an awful one, in my mind, just not very good. Sorry. I'm publishing it anyways, for two reasons. 1. This is something I wanted to write for myself, and I wanted to make sure I keep it. 2. I want to post somewhat regularly.

she glares
into her reflection
hoping, perhaps
to stare it
and make it
slither away

but the horrid
thing just stays

like some
awful little puppy
who follows you
and won't stop

huge, delicate
tears flow
her insides
for everyone to

and as
she she walks over
to the window
an overly cheery sun
catches her
tear streaked face
and glimmers
if only for
a moment

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

photos from jewish hippie camp!

This is pretty much the only camp that I've ever liked. Regular camp is just too military-like for me. Firstly, there is vegan food for EVERY meal. It's right on the table marked "vegan or gluten free". Even when they would serve ice cream or something, they make sorbet too! It was really awesome not having to think about if there was going to be food that I could eat or not. :) And then there was a thing where you're not allowed to say anything about what anyone else or yourself look like. And the whole place is pretty granola-y and is almost sickingly idyllic. Like you can spend your free time hanging out next to the goats while singing "hallelujah" and watching a group of 8 year olds playing with the free range angora bunny.

The awesome camp farm where almost all of the vegetables/grains we ate are grown. They had sheep, goats, and chickens too, but they're at the other side of camp. If you look closely, you can see the ridiculously huge compost pile in the distance.

Vivian, the self-appointed camp mom. She taught a bunch of people in our cabin to spin fire with her.
Getzel, our fedora-wearing rabbinical student who gives lectures about shabbat being a state of mind.
Our friday night shabbat the freaking woods.

shabbat "freakout dance session" after services. And led by Uncle Pesach (the one with the beard and turban), the most awesome human being I know, and also the music/"sound vibrations" teacher.

This is the boys about to enter the sweat lodge. Us girls were way too self conscious to let the photographer take a picture of us in our underwear while we're dripping in sweat.

this was during our paint dancing party on the last full day! It took me 3 long showers to get all the acrylic paint off of me. :(

our last havdalah before ending camp (the holiday that separates shabbat from the rest of the week). This is right before we have a MAJOR freakout dance session and everyone gets high on hugs and adrenaline from fire spinning.

Monday, July 25, 2011

I finially wrote something! sort of...

NAME: Lego Incongruous

AGE: 17

HAIR: long lavender hair, held back by two plastic, skull barrettes.

EYE COLOUR: dark green

HEIGHT: 5 feet even

WEIGHT: 120 pounds

PERSONALITY: Slightly antisocial. There are a few wonderful people, which is the only reason she doesn’t get herself turned into a hedgehog to avoid human contact. She’s generally thoughtful, but when someone makes her angry, she is very angry. She dislikes violence, and loves animals more than anything. Lacks a general belief in the importance of reality, which seems to annoy people. She has really strong beliefs, and refuses to bend them for anyone.

NATIONALITY/ACCENT: American, American accent

HISTORY: Lego left home after a particularly terrible argument with her parents about dish soap that turned into being about how she had no future. After spending her first night in a 7/11 bathroom, she realized that the only thing she could do and retain her sanity was to join the circus. She trained herself as a unicyclist, and charmed the manager to let her join. She continued to charm audiences of thousands, and made a name for herself and Tiddlywinks Circus. She briefly dated a very beautiful and glamorous tattooed lady, but found her to be overly dramatic. She wandered around in the forest for a while, until she found wonderful magic people, and decided to join them.

FAMILY: She hasn’t talked to her parents since she left home. She calls her brother, who is a famous short-story writer, everyday.

POWERS: She can shoot death out of her pinky. She’s never actually used it, because she doesn’t want to hurt anything that she doesn’t have to.

FAVOURITE WEAPONS: Doesn’t really like weapons much.

OTHER SKILLS: whipping up kick-ass vegan cupcakes in less than 20mins, hugging, taking pesky bugs outside, arguing well, dancing spastically, reading at lightning speed

FRIENDS: Ursula Prase, Quinnera Elviana, Venice Rain, Kallista Pendragon

ENEMIES: Rude people, mean people, stuffy people, people who don’t like unicorns

LIKES: glitter, animals, fancy words, laughing, being barefoot, rain, flannel shirts, awesome music, gingersnap cookies, hugs, giant books, movies with aliens, Shakespeare

DISLIKES: hatefulness, violence, high heels,

ADDRESS: 33 Triceratops rd.
Portland, Oregon

JOB: Does freelance set design and poetry. She has a small fortune from when she was a circus performer, so she doesn’t really need the money.

MODE OF TRANSPORTATION: Her bike, painted with glitter and as fast as a car.

NEVER SEEN WITHOUT: Her mug of hot chocolate.

DESCRIPTION: a little bit chubby, and pretty short. Has “You know what happens when you dream of falling? Sometimes you wake up. Sometimes the fall kills you.
And sometimes, when you fall, you fly” tattooed on her back.

IN FIVE WORDS: the weird girl and proud.

Saturday, July 2, 2011

Finished poem...finally

I guess that this might
seem a little weird
I mean,
your ex-girlfriends
probably never
told you that
they could fly

but all you do is
stare at me weird
and roll your eyes
like I'm joking
you lean back in your chair
and give me that awful smile
like I'm 5 years old
and I told you that
I have a magical unicorn

so I run
in that moment anger runs
through my skin like a gust of wind
memories flash
through my mind

the look you gave me when I told you
I loved you
like it grossed you out

how you would laugh at me
when I cried
over roadkill

the memories pop into my head
one by one
each one making me angrier
I can feel my head lifting
a wave of burning hot air
propelling it
I concentrate on what
an awful asshole
you are
until the air is so strong
it sears my flesh

somehow though
it doesn't hurt
like my anger
is a protective balm
a shield against pain

but then
I pause
another memory comes...
floating into me
I try to keep it out
but it pushes through
my skin anyways

and I remember
you staying up all night
texting me
giving me a reason to live

and that's all it takes
my ferocious anger
goes stale

my body
without my permission
flips upside down
and I plummet down
my body like a magnet
trying to connect with the core
of the earth

to be continued (maybe, I don't know if I'll want to keep using this premise)

Saturday, June 25, 2011

Is this confusing?

so now that I have followers (!) I can guess that they might read this. :) I just spent today writing, and that was awesome. I was wondering if these paragraphs was confusing, though. This is about a girl who tells her boyfriend that she can fly.

But all you do was stare at me weird and roll your eyes like I'm joking. You lean back in your chair and smile at me like I'm 5 years old and I want to show you my dog. "Well, let's see it."

So I ran. In that moment, every awful thing that he ever did comes rushing into my mind. Anger runs through my bare skin like a gust of wind. I can feel my head being forced up, a wave of burning hot air propelling it. I concentrate on what an awful asshole he was, until the air is so strong it sears my flesh. I can see the raw, bloody skin surfacing, until I am completely reborn, in new flesh. Somehow though, it doesn't hurt. Like her anger was some sort of protective balm, a shield against pain. 

okay, so if I told you that it was her anger that was making her fly, would that be news to you? (it's bad if it is)

Friday, June 24, 2011

No, you don't know me. But now you do!

A writer is a person for whom writing is more difficult than it is for other people.

Thomas Mann
German writer (1875 - 1955)

It's me, Legolas and this is my blog. You may or may not have figured that out already. Oh well, moving on now. Anyways, I just wanted to clear a few things up. No, I have not seen or read LOTR, my screen name is a nickname from my LOTR obsessed friends. Yes, I know that no one besides me says "screen name". Nor do they put slang in parentheses(Or say "nor"). This is a writing blog, because I love to do so. The thing is, putting my writing on here is really hard for me. Like almost everyone else in existence, I've been bullied and that kind of destroyed  my confidence. So here's my only rule: No "um...okay." comments. Because when you say that, you're not critiquing my writing, or laughing at my randomness.* You're saying "oh, you're weird, and therefore your writing sucks.". So if you say stuff like that, I WILL get mad and probably swear at you. The only way that you will be blocked is if you threaten me or anyone in Skullduggery Pleasant. Also, I swear. Not a lot, but if that kind of thing bothers you, don't read it. One more thing; this is not purely a writing blog. I'll also post food (vegan, cuz I don't eat dead things or products of dead things), music, and books. But yeah, I'm most obsessed with writing, so that's what this will mostly be about.
*which is all totally ok. Make fun of me, tell me you don't like my writing, tell me how you think I should change it. That's all fine, just don't be intolerant about weird people (i.e. me) on my blog. :)