flynnfromblakely

  It's July, I haven't been laid off from my job yet, and it is an unseasonably warm day in Seattle, Washington. I'm still wearing long pants - I was envisioning a moody, noir film city shrouded in fog, a view my over-detailed daydreaming of Twin Peaks doesn't do anything to soothe. We're supposed to visit the real deal later this week, a lovely little town with the diner still intact. But that's for when we leave the city, and my mom still has meetings to go to, so I am left to fantasize of cherry pie as my dad, my sister and I step out of the hotel and stroll down towards the waterfront, lattes in hand and the salty air in our noses. Seattle is nothing if not in love with coffee - even the monolith of caffeine addictions, Starbucks, was founded here - and everyone has an espresso machine at the least. I've already had at least three types of lavender mocha, and each sip motivates me as we wander off to find the Pike's Place Market. My mom has told me ...

when the weather starts to freeze something seems off about the trees. sky turns grey, and shines like steel - loses summer’s dancing, bright appeal. yet an odd elegance it now gains; snow and ice may still be gentler than spring’s stormy rains.

you already know it's true.  the drawings in your margins are better than they are in the sketchbook, so you tape them in there with the ragged edges showing.  jeans breathe more easily with holes in the knees, and half the choir sings more musically at karaoke than the competition. scars and moles and acne and stretch marks make better character design, and i hope i get old and my makeup gets caked into the creases on my face.  you can measure flaws if you're a computer, but a blank face looks like a perfect lawn, unlucky without the clover. if your voice doesn't crack when you sing too high, you need to sing louder. God made us in His image, freckles and - I stopped putting concealer on my dark circles a while ago, and brushed glitter on them instead, I think the world's grayer so we need more color, more gritty shine and greasy blush - our faces are human but our souls are incomprehensible. stardust is overused, but we are inherently undefinable.  spray paint clot...

  it had been hard on us. cold in the new air and the widest skies ever seen that you could get lost in. people know this isn’t your home. different language, different words unallowed  unwanted losing love for apathy back then just as it is now forcing through the wilderness only to be called wild yourself. hated for your language and your name.  back then as it is now. before the country was a country the others still learned to loath anyone that wasn’t them. back then just as it is now pushing away the very people who would make the world a better place back then just as it is now.

  i don’t know why she’s crying. the girl sitting on the floor screaming because it’s too loud too much or she’s hungry  or something. what does she want? she’s the one who wanted to turn up on a saturday night at a family gathering ( a birthday? or christmas ) and demanded we go home. she can’t even tell me why. she doesn’t like the noise ( calm music and them talking ) she doesn’t like the lights ( one lightbulb keeps flickering ) or the people or the conversation ( my kid cousins, always screaming ) so she puts in her earbuds and  sulks. i have things to do i have texts to reply i hate it here i’m being dramatic go home go home i’m annoying they hate me they hate me i hate it finally  i stand and go to grab some of my aunt’s seasoned salmon and those rustic potatoes  that still taste classy somehow? and a glass of apple juice. without ice . she’s so picky, for being almost grown. i sit and offer them to her,  and just for a moment, like a small, chaotic ...

  human relations, people attempt to communicate through space suits; they are bound by categories often seem to have a dark screen between selves and the world, distorting perception. alienated unduly constricted in expressing they have lost their capacity for childhood; shut off from  fantasies and feelings. most question the continual effort to attain more contact and tolerate restraint or  limitation.   alienated youths, search for self-expression. to remedy wrongs/to reform society. an interest in writing, the theater, or painting as attempts to communicate an audience; alienated, external internal: write for them structure experience as catharsis, to reveal to an outer audience. desire for expression becomes effort to organize not obscure to order the chaos   The meaning  is to escape and avoid the futures, hemmed in and constrained.

  my house  didn’t explode into being- no Big Bang or a supernova, dying star. it was built up  little by little bricks for words heard or sights i saw. i am supposed to be a genius. i can’t fail but i am small and sobbing  into  my mother’s arms in kindergarten because i want to know why i can’t be good because i made my teacher cry and i don’t understand what i did wrong. i lay a foundation, push my fingerprints into the concrete like a hollywood star in a creature’s body. still crying in fifth grade because i was at the top  of someone’s list of bad people to punish. they caught him before action but i would’ve been first, sitting numb at the plastic green tables maybe if i seal myself in the walls i’ll be okay. i am supposed to be genius. aren’t people supposed to like a genius? they shouldn’t want a girl dead who still sleeps with stuffed animals and fairy lights crying in eighth grade because of words traded  in a park after school. i am physical...