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Hello! I'm an art/film student and I currently reside in California. This is pretty much a notebook or corkboard to bounce ideas off of. Feel free to comment on any entry. Specific emails can be directed to archaelin@yahoo.com.

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Thursday, August 14, 2008

the bird with one thousand tongues.



Archaelin at 11:23 PM

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=== think about it ===

Friday, August 01, 2008
Holy Canoli, Generic Superhero Man!

So I nearly pooped my pants when I found a hidden link to a blog by my past (and much more pathetic) self. I tell you, it was scary. Then I realized that I'd gone through the entire month of January (and February, March, April, May, June, and July) without realizing I didn't post on January 11th, which has kind of been a "thing" that I always do. Like a yearly check-up. And you know what? It wasn't a huge deal. At all. It made me realize that I've really and definitely changed. A lot. It didn't even phase me. It was... awesome.

What's more? I fucking love life. Sure, there are moments when it really (REALLY) sucks, but if I just tune it out and think about the people and places that I love, well then life is awesome (at least, inside my brain it is). So... maybe that actually makes me look more pathetic, but you know what? I don't care. I'm happy in my dreams.

Dreams are awesome and horrible. They are rarely true but always have the potential to be. And even if they never come to fruition, well then I will always have my dreams.

I have truly left an old life behind and now I am flying.

Thank you.


EDIT:: I nearly forgot!! Poems for you. A little old (but only by a few months). Haha!

And no title for you!! It's not important, anyway. My title. MINE!


I never smile with my teeth and
Neither do you. We’ve got a smirk-like
That no one really knows if we’re devious or
Know something funny that no one else does.

We’ve got these rough-like hands that can
Also be kind of soft, but only
If we want them to be. I kind of want them
To be rubbed together with yours and some tinder and
Maybe just maybe we’ll start a fire and
Burn down the whole damn house.

We are the whole damn house.

We are the walls and the floor and the windows
That keep us cool in the day and warm at night.

We are the loud-barking laughs in the hallway and
The creaks in the wood board underfoot—we walk barefoot.

We are close-mouthed smiles and nefarious eyes.
Catch me looking, I dare.

Archaelin at 1:41 AM

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=== think about it ===

Thursday, December 27, 2007
Look right through me, look right through me

Welcome to December! Things have been very roller-coaster-like lately. School work, college apps, social issues (what?! with me?!), and just generally interacting with my family (more like the people whose house i happen to live in every once in a while) at home. I know, I know, as an upper-middle-class-white-girl-in-a-good-private-school-with-a-house-in-the-city-and-in-good-health I shouldn't be depressed, but sometimes I just need to shut down for a while. But I can't. It's like some higher power has put a cover over my shut-down button and now the little machine that I am is starting to smoke and buzz and glow menacingly shooting sparks and spewing error messages.

It's a little melancholy, but it just kind of came out of my fingers before i knew what had happened.
Listening to Donnie Darko music might have helped... emo Jake Gyllenhaal (sp?) needs a hug.
New Year's resolutions? Write more. Write better. Stop being emo and grow some balls. Find my 'off' button and give other people a user's manual so they get it when I shut down.

Here's to a new year!

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

i'm waiting in with the mothballs and dustbunnies
they dance and glide under the furniture where
i'd like to hide, you'd like to hide
if you knew where i was.

come with me and sit in the fishbowl.
they watch.

there are mites in the wood and they chew through the floorboards
where i'd like to fall through to the basement
there are rockets in the basement
that can send us away
together.

Archaelin at 8:18 PM

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=== think about it ===

Sunday, September 23, 2007
Way to be a senior

First published poem of the academic year! Woop-woop!
There's a lot still on my mind. Not-so-random stuff for a person my age, I guess, but still... weird for me. I mean, I'm always nostalgic at the end of summer missing my Washington state buddies, but this is a weird combination of that and general senior-itis and... just teen angst, I guess. I hate saying 'I guess,' but I have nothing else to compare it to. Maybe I'm just going nuts. I always say that... maybe I'm just self-centered and schizotypal. No, that would be selfish of me...

Oh well. Enjoy the poem. Here's to... selfishness.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Memento

And I graze on through the wooden halls of day-to-day
smoothing and catching splinters and fray and snag and
here's the part where I look at my hands. They are so
roughed-out and when they're cupped, it's like a bowl
or paddle of callous and cardboard feeling with pieces
of wood and rock and barnacle imbedded in the layers,
not dug out by tweezers or spoons or knives or teeth.
I leave them to work their own way out like a place
that I can't forget or a porcupine quill so hollow inside
and full of lessons and meaning and I'll never forget that
needle so grown into me poking and prodding it's way
out through my insides and making a channel in which
everything flows back to my thoughts.

Archaelin at 12:31 AM

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=== think about it ===

Thursday, May 10, 2007
Bah, humbug.

Hmm... no animosity toward english teachers here... We read some Yeats today. I love the Lake Isle of Innesfree and Adam's Curse. Fortunately, they were some of the few we had 'read to us' in class. I hate it when people read poems to me...

GAH! I wrote about half of this in my head as I was secretly steaming in my skull... humbug...

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The Big Fat Man Sat On The Tall Skinny Stool and talked about Poetry.
The Big Fat Man Sat On The Tall Skinny Stool and said that we didn't Understand.
The Fat Man Read The Poem and made noises from his mouth like a goose dying.
He paused and waited between noises and made up sounds of his own to take the places of some he didn't like.
He waggled his thick fingers in circles, nodding and shaking his scraggle-haired head.
The Big Fat Man looked down at us from His Tall Skinny Stool.
He ate away our Literacy in greedy mouthfuls and made us small with his eyes.
The Big Fat Man on the Tall Skinny Stool said that we didn't Understand Poetry.

Archaelin at 3:48 PM

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=== think about it ===

Tuesday, May 01, 2007
A plethora of new winds...

LOTS of new things, now that I've switched over to the google account... jah.
NOTE: blargh, once again, in pasting it into the post box, all of the cool nifty formatting was lost, so now the poems are boring and straight. Blah. Pretend they look cool... :(

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
#1: no title yet, and so far relatively unedited (even though I don't usually edit poems to begin with...)

i'm not looking to change the world
by making it mine
or making someone else's
by becoming theirs.

i'm looking to scoop it up in my fingers
drain out all of the bad stuff,
and fold it neatly in two
or three times
and deftly stuff it in my pocket.

i'll walk around like this,
travel, maybe, and every
once in a while empty my pockets,
turn them inside-out and let the life
fall in crumbs with movie ticket stubs.

i'll find it again later in a handbag,
tucked in a corner with edges missing
and i'll unfold it
look at it
and put it right back in behind the stars.

now life is beautiful,
but it doesn't mean a thing.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

#2: Really short by comparison, but it makes me happy.

The earth is a
funny mother,
and father the same:
he carves out the moon
with a dinnerplate and
sloughs off the extra black sky
to the side in a heap.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

#3: a spur-of-the-moment thing that I wrote in bed around 2 am. Go figure.

Moon Nest

Let’s go
somewhere where the valleys change directions
and the rivers go the wrong way.
They bring life in from the sea until blue whales bask
in bonny green rushes and sing the tenor tune
to the trilling thrushes warble.

We’ll build a house of river rocks and mat the floor with down
so every step we take will bear us higher
and we fly up past the piney boughs,
trailing ribbons from our heels in the rafters.

Let’s fly, you and I will go.
We will swim and slip
down between the ebbing rocks
and launch the fishes free
to taste the wind under their scaly fingers.

Somewhere there’s a cloudy mount
with grasping groves all deep blue and dark
with the shadows of feathers
drifting ‘cross the canopy.

Where glowworms burrow deep and swallows cling to moss,
where branch turns up to sky and halts the sun’s slow cross,
that nook that catches moonbeams in the sultry balm of day
where time will never stray,
that’s where I’ll be waiting in the leaves.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

#4: a little older, and it doesn't make too much sense if you haven't read La Casa de Bernarda Alba, but I thought I'd put it up just for kicks...

Adela

Adela wears the green dress
and sits in the dirt,
legs spread before her as a child,
counting the specks of dirt between them.

Sisters twist inside the house,
chicken-scratching their way in each others eyes
and talk and yell and scream
and steal loveless prayers.

Adela has a green dress
and she is golden in its sleeveless glory
green and gold and brown in the dirt
sunny on her back, mourning back.

Mother: superior--
castigates and loves as a man
in black and woman, she is.
Pound, cane of fallacies,
strike thine children poor.
All girls.

Adela wears the green dress,
back to mourning sisters, she smiles sad
and talks to the chickens and dirt.
Hello, lovely dirt.

Archaelin at 12:36 PM

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At 5/01/2007, Blogger Adraea said...

eeet's aliiiiive!

Hello again, I was afraid you had dropped off the side of the earth...

I especially love love love the last poem - the imagery really grabs you and winds you in. Of course, all of your poems are awesome - as usual.

Yay for poetry! *glomp*

 

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=== think about it ===

Thursday, January 18, 2007
And my hands, WHOA my hands

Here's a little snack for those who've got the poetic munchies. :)
The header to this post is a reference to a silly old song i know, where basically at the last stanza you just start BELTING it out: And mah hands, WHOA mah haa-eeee-ands, I believe with mah hands I can hold this land. Mah two hands hold the Ea-earth, mah two hands heeeeeal the Ea-earth.
And then we go all hippy-like and braid daisies. :P

= + = + = + = + = + = + =

So I'm looking down my nose
that I really can only see when I go cross-eyed
and cross-eyed, nothing really seems right, anyway,
except for that which is so far away
or so close.
So close.

My hands are so close I can see their canyons
and dirt and sweat and sand and I wonder
is there someone looking up out of my hand-canyons,
all cross-eyed and looking at me,
that which is so far away, but I'm close.

My hands are so far away.

Archaelin at 8:33 PM

2 comments

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At 2/21/2007, Blogger Adraea said...

This is lovely....even though I read it over a month ago! Update, woman!

 
At 3/01/2007, Blogger Ellie said...

WOMAN!

 

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=== think about it ===