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lazy line painter jane

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Writer's Block: Wake up and smell the coffee [Feb. 9th, 2010|11:10 am]
lazy line painter jane
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Given the choice, would you rather sleep in or eat a delicious breakfast? Is there any food you love so much that you'd wake up at dawn or travel a great distance just to eat it?

Delicious breakfast. I sleep in often, and indulge never.
If intoxicated, and offered a plate of golden hushpuppies, and had no money, I can't say that I wouldn't flash someone for the whole damn plate. If that's considered sufficient bartering.
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the point [Dec. 19th, 2009|12:55 am]
lazy line painter jane
[music |braid]

i always imagined i would eventually find someone who thinks the same way that i do.
an intellectual, emotional equivalent to be smitten by. a soul-mate. isn't that the point?

someone who's ability to over-romanticize, and not even over-romanticize, but ability to appreciate tiny, insignificant things (like the smell of rain hitting pavement and the feeling you get from road trips and waking up when it's still dark outside: a mix of nausea and adrenaline and pre-mature nostalgia for the memories you know you're going to make that day) would surpass mine.

that's who i am. that's what i need. it's taken me 4 years to argue my way to this conclusion.

so where are you.
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the thought process [Dec. 19th, 2009|12:37 am]
lazy line painter jane
i never thought i could live the life of an ordinary.
i never imagined myself to be content with a life consisting of a bland routine of day-to-day living. everyone has responsibilities.
bills, work, family...but i never thought those things would comprise my entire existence.
i always imagined coy, romantic, quietly exhilarating undertones.

life has been comfortable for far too long. feeling secure has lead to feeling under-stimulated. when i've felt love, i've always questioned whether it's organic or something that we've fabricated; something we try to feel and get used to feeling to validate the fact that we're still together.

one cliche after another. i know people grow apart. i know its hard to change. i know there are plenty of fish in the sea. i know i should follow my heart. i know hard decisions are never easy. i know i shouldn't bail on a lease. i know i shouldnt leave people i care about, strapped for cash, fighting for a roof over their heads, just because i want to see if the grass is greener on the other side.

wanderlust is a terrible thing. but how long is it to be ignored.
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"the sweaty sheets, the dirty cups, they keep piling up.." [Feb. 10th, 2009|11:26 am]
lazy line painter jane
I can't get enough of the good life.
They're one of those bands for me, like jawbreaker and the promise ring....
Where I get obsessed because at the time, they're exactly right. Exactly therapeutic. I still drive with the heat on and the windows down, coffee and cigarette in hand, knees on the steering wheel...eternally 18 at heart, i suppose.


We could recognize our faults
We could admit when we’re wrong
We could try to talk things out
Instead of yelling from the wells of our lungs
But we don’t

We could try and patch things up
Siphon out the bad blood
We could set our pride aside
Ignore our egos for the night
And make love
But we won’t

We insist we’ll be all right
These wounds will heal themselves with time
All we have to do
Is stick it through a few more months
And we’ll be fine
But we know
But we know..

You could finally tell me off
But I got a feeling you won’t
You keep lying to yourself
But the truth is you’re afraid of letting go
So let go.
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fly honey. [Dec. 29th, 2008|12:09 pm]
lazy line painter jane
so a friend of ours brought over a bottle of red absinthe from spain as a housewarming gift.
the shots are rough. really rough. but when mixed with strawberry daquari wine coolers, its actually quite pleasant. lethal, even.

and before you know it, you end up drinking the whole cup and the words...
the words are coming out of your mouth so fast and you dont know
what you're saying but you hear yourself and then upon reflection, you think you used "grandma" and "hymen" in the same sentence, which makes you cringe.
what did you say?
and then you break ceramic coasters and run into tables
and get accused of flirting with your boyfriend's brother of all people.
but all in all, you just have fun.
until people start throwing up all over your downstairs bathroom.
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i can't escape myself [Dec. 18th, 2008|10:25 am]
lazy line painter jane
[music |darla - why?]

since going on unemployment, i've felt like bathwater spiraling towards the drain
faster and with more ferocity each moment; gray and slimy, full of chunks and flakes
and you always wonder, "was i really that dirty? can soap make water look that cloudy?"
did i swallow any of that shit?
and i don't know anymore. i think i am those flakes and the slime and gray.
i'm drinking yerba mate but getting minty burps. how does one explain all of these things?

i'm trying really hard to pinpoint the place where i went wrong, hoping
that i'll have one of my moments of clarity that are never really clarity, just a new possibility that i hadn't considered before, which will eventually get dismissed because no, that's not it...

there's nothing worse than getting tipsy and crying with your mom at ruby tuesdays, to make you realize that you are having problems.

jesus. im 22. should i be making my boyfriend breakfast and packing his lunch and cooking dinner everyday? should we hang around the house each night, entertaining ourselves separately except for when we smoke pot or go out on the porch for a cigarette? should i be in this town with no jobs and no friends and nothing to do, even if i had the money to spend, just to stay in a relationship? i've been doing this for almost 3 years...i want a verb but im giving myself all nouns.

im reading "even cowgirls get the blues" by tom robbins and now i dont ever want to get married. a lightbulb went off. he's saying that marriage is too convenient for most men. most women cook, and do the laundry, and fuck their husbands. thats all a guy needs and why not take care of the woman who's doing all this shit for you? no, no...i feel like i'm already married. maybe that's why he's still keeping me around...How did i get like this?


How do you reach back through the dimensions of your own mind.
How do you sift through all the bullshit and find your ambitions.
How do you create action when you're used to reacting.

How can you respect yourself when the biggest common interest between you and your lover, is a cat.
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(no subject) [Dec. 17th, 2008|11:30 pm]
lazy line painter jane
lj...lll...jjjjj...hm.
i want to write, all the time.
all the time i can't find a place to start.
my own thoughts, feelings...my own shit-stained train of thought...
have i really lost that many brain cells?
i've read all of the twilight books so maybe i have.
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fucking fucked up dream journal [Jan. 10th, 2008|12:58 pm]
lazy line painter jane
incredibly scary, unable to wake myself up like usual.
cant remember how it started...i was babysitting for a guy
that looked like bruce campbell and his petite mexican/asian
wife.

they were really healthy, rich, and told me not to feed their kids junk,
even though they had it in the house the kids couldnt eat it...
so when they left this little girl asked me if she could make a sandwich.
i let her. it was fruit loops on top of peanut butter and honey.
the mom walked in to grab her purse and saw the messy sandwich all over the counter.
violent yelling, flailing, and then her husband walked in and glared at me.
stood still, glaring for minutes. i got freaked out and grabbed the kids
and started running. we hid in weird tight places all over the house.
i let the kids go thinking the parents would be less mad and they turned on me.
i tried to get away once. failed.
hid again and dashed into their suv that didnt have keys in it, but coasted
down the driveway and around a corner, i jumped out ran into the woods and hid behind trees
while i saw them five feet away from me. the kids were evil and holding weapons.
i had this preconceived notion all of a sudden that i was supposed to join the carnival.
or that someone had told me before that as long as i jumped across the brook and made
it into the carnival grounds i would be safe and they couldnt see me.

i jumped over this little stream and felt safe and didnt even bother hiding
because i was invisible.

this morphs into me, jess, and katie being at a nursing home.
because i left the carnival, i'm trying to hide out with friends.
jess was a cna and giving out shots. went up to the windowless window
that she was behind and told her what was up and she gave me a yellow cake
shot in a syringe. i held it in my mouth for a long time.
became spastic and scared of the old people. i just sat in a chair
feeling doomed and uncomfortable. they came through the door.

slowly walked out and they saw my hair and bolted after me.
met up with katie, jess followed trying to protect me, and we made it to an airport
and flew to guatamala, brazil...somewhere like that.

we're coming back from our trip thinking we're safe now and we realize we lost katie.
nothing we can do cause we're on the airport shuttle, underground.
go through with our flight plans, anxious jittery feelings the whole dream...
and come back to the inn where i work. we're walking in the snow and realize we must
be one day ahead of katie so she should be here tomorrow.
she shows up the next day. we're happy, its all fine.

i'm at my house and there's a party.
i feel relieved to have so many people around me.
i go upstairs and find sam eating out this girl i've seen around wiscasset.
he ignored me and kept saying how soft her skin was. she like 18 with bleach blonde
spiral curl, permed hair. i go downstairs and see an suv pull in the driveway.
bruce climbs out, his wife and daughter are dressed in red and white apron/christmas outfits with red stockings and white nurse hats. all of a sudden there are SWARMS of crabs. so many that they covered the driveway, grass, way out to the road. they climbed underneath the house and started to move it a little. i yelled GUNS GET THE GUNS to everyone and they all had guns and bullets
and assumed positions. i climbed backwards down the basement stairs and hid by a window. thought i was still invisible. they shined a spotlight
and saw me duck. i started looking for weapons and found a paint can. dyed my hair bleach blonde, made my pants booty shorts, took off my glasses
and rubbed my face a lot to try to change it. didnt hear anything.
came upstairs and tried to act out my new persona, bouncing around
coming up with names. he heard me doing this, knew it was a fake.
everyone started shooting at once. i ran upstairs thinking sam would
freak out about the guns but he was still in bed with that innocent, likes horses,
blue cream eyeshadow, spiral blonde girl. i freak out take my shirt off
and say "you dont really want to lose these tits do you"
ignores me. i throw her off the bed and go "DO YOU"
we have sex. he disappears at this point.

i go downstairs and see everyone dead on the floor.
look out the window, the crabs are all dead.
the suv is gone.




my dreams really are this vivid.
no lies.
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ache [Dec. 13th, 2006|05:12 pm]
lazy line painter jane
So, I feel like writing...but I don't even know where to begin. I'm being dragged through a decaying relationship that I've let myself find so much identity in, that I'm too afraid to let go. I do so much, I give so much, I sacrifice simple things just to appease him, but I don't recieve any of those. I feel childish, but it's the simple things that hurt me the most. Money is tight and I spend more than gets spent on me. I never thought I'd let money get between me and a person I loved, but I buy my own shit all the time and it's like, "if you don't even take me out to dinner, how much must i mean to you..." If we go to denny's, I buy my own food. Movies, I get my own ticket. Gas stations, I pay for my own vitamin water...And none of this would be such a big deal if he wasnt making 20 dollars an hour, twice as much as me, granted, with more bills to pay, but enough left over to get the shit he wants, whenever he wants it.

I haven't cried this much since I was sixteen and stuck in my dashboard phase. My first serious relationship has left me so twisted that the thought of being single makes me anxious. Who am I going to spend my time with, What am I going to do in that free time? I don't have a camera, i can't knit, i can't draw, i can't paint, i can't make jewlery, i hate crossword puzzles, i'm picky about what i read...i mean what other hobbies are out there. I'm a libra with an aries moon; i should be so artistic that...i dont know, but i should be really artistic and while i enjoy coloring books, that's about it.

He even told me that he doesn't understand how we've gotten along together so well for this amount of time because astrologically, we're complete opposites. It's something that I may not put faith in, but he's learned a lot from it....
...whatever.
It also feels good to hear that the things i want to do are boring. Like see buster keaton films and go to the hookah bar. Because I have so much fun watching you play final fantasy, asshole.

I can't see this lasting much longer and the thought of that fucking scares me shitless. I'll need to move, maybe get a job with verizon and relocate to burlington, vt. i dont know, it's a prospect.
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Jesus was a carpenter. [Oct. 26th, 2006|02:07 pm]
lazy line painter jane
[music |the boats]

My emotions can sometime be crass and powerful and for one moment I feel like I may have the balls to do something that I'll regret later.
But I never do. I never have the balls to make a decision I'm not sure that I want to make; I'm passionate but I guess I'm saying I'm not spontaneous. I wish I knew what to say and how to execute "following my heart." It's not even my heart, it's an impulse. For whatever reason, all of a sudden I feel like I need to get out. That I'm finding myself in a rut and in a relationship that's too comfortable, passive, and so sure that something's going to happen soon that will make things really excellent but knowing that nothing will happen unless we make it, which we won't. This probably doesn't make any sense. I've been working 10p - 2a this week, stopping at his house to sleep on my way home. I sleep until 11 or noon and hang around the house while everyone else is gone because I know if i go home, it'll just be chaotic and stressful. Smoke pot, walk the dog, eat some food, watch a movie, make dinner for him if i have money to buy anything, and then we just chill until i go to work. I can't get over this sense of not belonging anywhere. I dont pay rent here, i don't live here, I never wanted to move in with my boyfriend and his parents or mom. I never wanted to be that person. But that's what i've been doing. I need to have my own place where I want to be and know that i can be there. With the money sam makes, and the money i'll be making at LL Bean, we could afford to get at least a 600/mo appartment but for some reason, sam never actually has money. This is very case-specific and tacky, all of this. I just can't process all of this shit...without getting too exhausted to fully think it through. Driving back from work last night, I was just like, "there's someone better..." I dont want there to be someone better, but I know there is. I don't want to ever be without him, but I know that I will. I want to sit here in this computer chair with the clothes on i rolled out of bed in, no make up, hat and glasses and wait for him to walk through his bedroom door 2 and a half hours from now and see what happens. what i feel, what he says or asks me. i know i'll start crying because i'm aware of what this moment means to me and the consequences that i'll have to try to explain or at least divuldge my whole train of thought that wont make any sense the second time through. This will all come out like a case of being over analytical mixed with seasonal depression, and he'll hug me, rub my back, and say, "sweetheart..." over and over again, trying to lure in a clue of why i'm upset, and i won't say anything. I'll realize how warm his hands feel through my shirt and inhale the scent of a carpenters workshop, cigarettes, and cologne still lingering on his clothes and know how hurt i'd be to even imagine him comforting someone else. I'll get over it and go through the same thing months later. I can't get myself out, even if i want to. Love/hate would be better. At least there would be some volume.
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