only some things are reliable

my hair is long, it is light, my body is long, it is medium color, my breasts are small, most of the time i want to be taken away, i am prone to breathing too fast, i am lucky because i have always liked my body, i have never worried about it or my face or hair or cloths, but this doesn't mean i don't worry, i worry endlessly if i can ever get away from myself, i worry if i am loved by the people that tell me they love me, if i have a place to go when i need to go, if my brain is good enough to do anything important, i wonder what it means to keep up appearances, i don't understand why i cry as much as i do, i have more than i can handle, yet i want more...i don't understand how it is that i was born somewhere so far away with people so different than anyone around me now and i don't understand where they have all gone, i don't understand how i have lived so separately from my family and everything that seemed to be so comfortable to me, i don't understand why i don't make movies, i don't understand why i worry so much about being smart, most of the time i wish i could do myself a favor and...

i do know that i am not a kiss up and will never wear diamonds

i do know that my ankles are small, my lips and eyes are crooked, and my legs are long

lately

when i go to work and serve eggs and work with the people that i work with i am reminded that everyone i meet is afraid of something, loves something and has lost something. one day i will make a movie about this.

went to our friend's movie tongiht. that's all he does. he makes movies. in between he will work at a coffee shop or record store, but he just makes movies. are they good? they are. they are hip and cool and trendy, they follow conventions of not following conventions. he does his talk, you know, he makes movies because he makes movies. he makes films about pretty girls and pickpocketers. he shoots them in black and white. his characters speak french and italian. but he makes them. i sit here and write blogs about it.

tall like a sycamore