the mix.

Thu, 27 Mar 2008 01:03:10 GMT

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?

asfasfassssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

THE CHAPTERS

Wed, 13 Feb 2008 06:49:25 GMT

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.

+

Wed, 04 Apr 2007 03:31:33 GMT

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.

little fat-ass.

Sat, 24 Mar 2007 04:34:27 GMT

i've been known to be vulgar.

future.

Fri, 16 Mar 2007 02:30:32 GMT

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.

spencer.

Wed, 28 Feb 2007 06:20:56 GMT

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

c'est bon.

Tue, 27 Feb 2007 06:06:07 GMT

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:

jour.

Sun, 18 Feb 2007 05:44:14 GMT

"a/s/l, want 2 cyber?"

lua, stephanie, olivia.

"tittie borner!"

le jour.

l'amour.

Thu, 15 Feb 2007 05:31:19 GMT

valentines.

funny pictures,
chocolate,
top grades,
dancing,
water spilling all over papers,
hugs,
macaroni cards,
and smiles. :]

disection.

Tue, 13 Feb 2007 05:22:00 GMT

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.

ma ville.

Tue, 06 Feb 2007 07:25:06 GMT

trop pauvre pour les pilules,
je fais la putain pourtant je suis nul
et toutes ces choses que j'éjacule,
je cours contre la montre,
je cours mais je recule

Ô Montréal tu es tellement froide,
une ourse polaire dans l'autobus
je m'inspire de pire pour m'enrichir
et je t'aime tellement que j'hallucine

papapapapadapada

je passe sous silence
ton arrogance
tu gardes le rythme
tu me mets en transe

papapapapadapada

j'ai ce que je mérite
et quelle jouissance

ton visage sur mon magazine
ton palmarès de concubines

Ô Montréal tu es tellement froide,
une ourse polaire dans l'autobus
je m'inspire de pire pour m'enrichir
et je t'aime tellement que j'hallucine

le chat ronfle
et tu parles dans ton sommeil
et pourtant moi
je n'arrive pas à fermer l'oeil

fuck.

Sun, 04 Feb 2007 07:50:05 GMT

lua,stephanie,alina.
+ not loved/not taken pictures of jessica, the boy/guy, the boy with braces.

alina.

stephanie.

ewie mc ewster @ ms. elie.

stephanie, white light.

alina, high healzzz.

ms. elie, profile, ew nose.

the great escape.

alina's heart attack.

jolt.

ms. elie the lank.

lua's movement.

lua, stephanie, alina. stilt.

lua, stephanie, alina. movement.

mind fuck.

tuff unicorn.

street cred.

ms. elie, the retard.

love.

Fri, 02 Feb 2007 00:34:42 GMT

dustin o'halloran, you devil.

tiny.

Thu, 01 Feb 2007 07:39:32 GMT

was it all really worth it?
maybe we should all take our pills,
and meet our end.

honestly i'm not sure where i am going,
honestly i'm not sure where i am.

tout ça.

Wed, 31 Jan 2007 05:15:10 GMT

the biology of caroline elie

1/6,525,170,264.
aa.
ali n.
america's next top model.
andrew f.
a. warhol.
body shop.
charlie joe.
christine e.
dustin o'halloran.
edie sedgwick
freddie coconuttree + jason blasphemy.
free.
general electrics phone mod. no. 2-9110GYB
hole-on ex. (35mm pinhole camera)
i am not myself these days.
japanese blossom.
jumpers.
kaia'taie:ri m.
katamari.
little miss sunshine.
lovely feathers, the.
ludwig.
maroon.
mortal kombat.
nico.
nobuta wo produce.
olympus sp-500uz
patrick wolf.
pencil skirts.
rum.
saitou keita.
shisha/sherahzad.
short curly hair.
simons.
sleeping bags.
stephanie e.
teal.
the factory.
the kite runner.
the mix.
thermal clothing.
torvalt.
trigger effect.
water boys two.
zelda: twilight princess.

--

i'll always be changing this.
these things and people make me, me.

--

"What's great about this country is that America started the tradition where the richest consumers buy essentially the same things as the poorest. You can be watching TV and see Coca-Cola, and you know that the President drinks Coke, Liz Taylor drinks Coke, and just think, you can drink Coke, too. A Coke is a Coke and no amount of money can get you a better Coke than the one the bum on the corner is drinking. All the Cokes are the same and all the Cokes are good. Liz Taylor knows it, the President knows it, the bum knows it, and you know it."

—The Philosophy of Andy Warhol; from A to B and back again.

augustine.

Wed, 17 Jan 2007 05:52:22 GMT

i am caroline elie.

i walk around in my underwear.
i have big plans for the futur.
i am abnormally open.
i cannot sleep at night.
i will say whatever is on my mind and not think twice about saying it.
i love to give silly nick names to charlie joe.
i have a foul mouth.
i am very loud, but can be unheard.

florida trip:

myself:

growing pains.

Mon, 08 Jan 2007 06:18:38 GMT

i don't know if i should be upset or depressed or what.
my birthday was yesterday and my own mother forgot.
i don't mean forget a present for me, which she did and i said it was fine i didn't really want anything.
i mean she complete forgot.

here's what went down:

douglas (my father): CAROLINE, YOUR GRANDMOTHER IS ON THE PHONE. SHE WANTS TO WISH YOU A HAPPY BIRTHDAY.
joy (my mother): OH! it's your birthday...
caroline walks away not even looking at joy to answer the phone.
caroline returns to the sofa to continue playing zelda.
joy: happy birthday.
caroline: a-huh.

she completely forgot, and i didn't know how to react.
for a second i wanted to cry, but caroline elie does not cry.
i didn't cry at my bestfriends funeral and i'm not going to cry now.

it wasn't quite a "sweet" sixteen.

well i'm glad i'm back from florida though i don't like being in ~~montreal~~ the west island.

pre-christmas marcus' party wasn't great for me.
well it was until like one o'clock when i lost control of myself.

bedroom.

Fri, 22 Dec 2006 04:54:04 GMT

amelie came over today, we watched hardcore kids dance and took pictures. :]

and i'm excited for tomorrow's thing at marcus's

:D! I haven't seen him since forever.

p.s. here is the hardcore kids we watched:

english.

Wed, 20 Dec 2006 22:47:47 GMT

my english teacher called my house,

she told my parents i hadn't handed in my literary essay.

i'm sorry to say but it's exam week, i don't have time to finish a literary essay.

penisfaces.

uggs.

and i cleaned my whole room after about two months of living in it as a pigs den.

i did my laundry too.

what did my mom say?

"good."

that's all i get, she doesn't even look how nice and clean i made it.

plus she was nagging me for the past two weeks to clean it.

ihateitsomuch.

if anyone has read a streetcar named desire, care to aid me?

essay.

Wed, 20 Dec 2006 17:29:14 GMT

"the stronger are able to obliterate the weak thought dominance, manipulation, and devious behavior."

god i hate literary essays.

metalocalypse finale.

Wed, 20 Dec 2006 09:15:38 GMT

i love how brendon small from home movies does one of the voices in metalocalypse.

:D

ali nicks.

Tue, 19 Dec 2006 17:28:16 GMT

maths, too easy for words.

Tue, 19 Dec 2006 07:43:32 GMT

to identify type of relation from table of values or graph:
see page 19 for summary.

a new day.

Tue, 19 Dec 2006 06:34:47 GMT

less than eight hours until my maths exams.

studied?

no.

know my shit?

no.

make crib sheet?

no.

i'll pull it off,

i always do.

--

on a lighter note,

andrew is going to try and get into concordia.

which will please me because he will be in montreal,

not toronto.

first words.

Mon, 18 Dec 2006 21:39:33 GMT

caroline elie, she's pretty much dead.
the city lights they burn so bright.
where were you when i needed you?
words of wisdom returning you to me?
please, don't be a drag this time.
darling dear if you please.

the cat has diarrhea, again.

it's gone.
it's gone.
it's gone.

"where did the cat go?"

"down the sewer again."

december twenty-fifth.
january sixth.

the whole nine yards.

too close for missiles,
i'm switching to guns.