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the mix.
Mar. 26th, 2008
09:01 pm
evidently, my work is disgusting.
it's been a year or so, since i've touched this thing. in that time i've developped into a piece of shit. my writing is grubby, as am i.
anyways, i use wordpress now, how do you do cuts on that?
Feb. 13th, 2008
01:43 am - THE CHAPTERS
CHAPTER 001
my head lunged forward, the urge to cry too clear. yet my body wouldn't let it happen. the deep melody of the current track playing tinged at my deepest works. my mind falls blank once again. i'm a woman of little or no sense. i enjoy when the message machine flickers twice the amount of times the phone flickers red light. 2:1 is the ratio. sorry i'm leading you to the wrong side of the train tracks once again. i begin to scratch at my knotty hair. i hadn't really brushed it properly in several weeks. my skin was beginning to get worst as well. i was slowly going downhill, when i returned it would be alright. i'm a hiker!
CHAPTER 002
the dog stared out the window. agitating my mind. flash of light. i move to the next room, fear sparks. three times he barks at nothing really. i return to my regular cycle. little inlightening times.
CHAPTER 003
i've never been much of a morning person. i make awkward conversation with the elderly. it's thursday. again i wish it was monday. my hair is still knotty. and my skin is still rotten to the core. i had received free products in the mail, they felt like urine on my skin. once again, i wished it was monday.
it's a lost image.
CHAPTER 004
for a while, i escape the city. sometimes, i don't feel like talking to people. nor do i feel like doing anything with myself. i enjoy the feeling of forgetting. forgetting things i've said and done. i do what girls my age do. watch horrible movies. dine with family. sleep. eat. everything. then i remember again who i am, and what i've done.
CHAPTER 005
i've yet to write for over a year. i bet it's the old whiskey my grandfather force fed me at ten. i mess up, over and over. consistently i make mistakes, it's like a french assignment. fuck up the accent on the e. warm blankets cover my whole body, choking the air out of my throat, "DON'T BREATH" the demon yelled "DIE FOR YOUR SINS, YOU'VE KILLED WHAT YOU LOVED!" he was right. where was i again? home ? where is my mother? don't tell me she left me too. head aches killing each brain cell, head ache killing each thought that made its way to my vocal cords.
each second feels like nothing.
each minute feels like nothing.
each hour feels like nothing.
each day feels like nothing.
each week feels like nothing.
each month feels like nothing.
each year feels like nothing.
CHAPTER 006 & CHAPTER 007
are disclosed.
CHAPTER 008
what we thought was reality is never true. when you think you're eating a cat it is most certainly always a dog. closed eyes can't help much; even muttered laughs won't aid your troubles. it's a tuesday, you're putting on your petticoat. you are planning to have a nice cup of tea with a friend. but then you get hit by a bus. hard, fast, the reality of it all is too much. you fall into a hole. disappear to the north, per say. the unexpected tunes of a guitar make your head pound. tossing and turning; you realize you never even put on the petticoat. words are said to you, but you cannot hear. people are in front of you, but you cannot see. someone's' holding out their hand to you, but you cannot touch. were you ever really alive? did you ever have friends and family? are words even real? crash into a wall; it's pure white. process the information, work with it, and try reconstructing the mind to work properly. it's difficult, but it always works out perfectly. take up the pen in the right hand, the perfect hand. open the sketch book, and begin to work. never stop. continue the work until your hands bleed. band-aids can heal all.
CHAPTER 009 (not a personal favorite)
unexpected words escape you, but you're happy it's over. to a person of god, it's a sin. to the common wealth, though, it's perfection. let's torch this city! let's not get too crazy though. i know you want a mess, but i'm a neat-freak. calm. settle. relax. it' a common rolling film, down a large hallways. recognizable, you've been here before. the film is black and white. a family waving goodbye or hello is seen. you've no idea what is going on. then a car drives off; you presume they were saying goodbye. then the film quickly changes to that of war. men are dying; the world is at its worst. BLOOD! CHILDREN! CITIES! BURNING! DYING! IT'S ALL OVER, AND YOU CAN'T DO A THING! it's perfect. the mess is the film itself. you leave, down the hallway. maybe you'll come back in a few years; when you're ready.
CHAPTER 010
"i can no longer express myself. my linguistic skills are failing me; beyond the point of return. when i was a lad, not much younger than yourself, i wrote beautifully. no one believed such words would come from riff raff like myself. my work was never surpassed; even the gods expressed such hatred towards me out of pure jealousy. my fingers were worked, boy were they worked. the cracks were visible in the dark of night; the crookedness caused from writing for hours was obvious to all. i had horrible bags under my eyes from thousands of sleepless nights. my hair had not been combed in weeks. now, i am old. even the strongest movements a pianist produces that usually would work my insides to compose beautiful work is failing me. i listen for mistakes; perhaps that will help. nothing. i am becoming worst. i don't know what i am expected to do. i'ven't written a decent piece of writing in weeks."
thoughts on the perspective of life, in general. by caroline joy-elizabeth elie
a man leaves another behind. when you listen to a tambourine you tend to turn your head around; in a circular motion. it's a rather delicate task but it is worth it. you love a man who can slur the right way. when he drags the last syllable of the word it is pure ecstasy. it's like the good old days, when you were back in the old country. a big fire was burning and the towns' people come around dancing and singing; it's nothing like the city. the warmth you felt back then comes jolting through your pores. you wish, hope and even cry out for the next fix of that drug, that purest feeling given to you by something oh so great. but alas it's never given to your unworthy hands. you're a dog.
Apr. 3rd, 2007
11:19 pm - +
i wonder what it feels like to be like the rest of the flock,
i wonder what it feels like to be able to cry,
i wonder what it feels like to really have emotions.
i'm a pretty heart-less person, i already know that.
i'm a photographer, i'm an "artist" or so they say.
i plan to stand on my own feet i suppose,
i'm seen as that kind of person.
i don't really need, nor want others.
(i already have all those i need.)
i dislike how i've typed "i" so much, it seems so egocentric.
which apparently i am.
apparently he's twenty, i don't know how i feel about that.
it feels rather weird though, it was so long ago.
it's coincidental that she thought about it the same day as i.
my name is caroline elie, i'm sixteen.
i'm egocentric, artistic, clearly fucked up.
i've never depended on other, unless it was my parents when i was being fed and clothed.
my grandmother calls it lack of discipline, i say it's dependence.
i was born into a family that is very self sufficient, i guess that's why i'm like this.
Mar. 24th, 2007
Mar. 15th, 2007
10:27 pm - future.
04/03/07
my future husband,
subtle et tv on the radio.
montréal is a place for ninety-nine cent pizza.
mix ups and shisha.
Feb. 28th, 2007
01:16 am - spencer.
spencer j. - spencer no. 1 (cunt)
spencer l. - spencer no. 2 (lopso opso)
alina d. - spencer no. 3 (piss drinker)
caroline e. - spencer no. 4
jessica m. - spencer no. 5
stephanie c. - spencer no. 6
Feb. 27th, 2007
01:03 am - c'est bon.
jessica milligan's party,
j'aime.
i did not have a chance to put the digital pictures into my photobucket but here are some of the polaroids:
( pictures in the cut. )
Feb. 18th, 2007
12:07 am - jour.
"a/s/l, want 2 cyber?"
lua, stephanie, olivia.
"tittie borner!"
le jour.
( pictures in the cut. )
Feb. 15th, 2007
12:12 am - l'amour.
valentines.
( pictures in the cut. )
funny pictures,
chocolate,
top grades,
dancing,
water spilling all over papers,
hugs,
macaroni cards,
and smiles. :]
Feb. 13th, 2007
12:20 am - disection.
i walk around my house at four a.m.
thinking, staring, wondering.
my mind doesn't run like most.
i can stare at walls for
minutes, hours, days.
looking at each crack,
looking at each mistake.
i'm really not like most,
the minute you meet me you'll understand.
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