A Lesson on Lookin' Cute and Feelin' Cute

How to Feel cute: Do cute things...
("It's on video. Heehaahheeeughhhehhee")


How to Look Cute: Make pretty faces....
( "is it on video?"...."yeaahhh!"...." I figured.")


In the end you will be lookin' and feelin' so cute that it will just vibrantly shine from your pores! We will demonstrate....

You are a Slacker

Those of you who compulsively scroll to the bottom of the page will now be pleasantly surprised by the "Staff Picture". In said picture you'll find all the current registered authors active and otherwise (cough cough Fairen, Cam, Cassie and Adrienne cough cough.)
Let it be known that if you can make a better "staff picture" please do.
If you can post something... anything... please do, especially if YOU HAVE YET TO POST EVEN THOUGH YOU'VE BEEN A REGISTERED POSTER FOR LIKE TWO WEEKS.

Lesser Crimes

When I was much younger than I am today, someone accused me of feeling far too much.
They took me to the courts and the judge gave me the most severe sentence available for such egregious empathy.
He called that sentence ‘The Naming of Things’.
The judge demanded a written account of all things which have touched my life.
A fierce litany of many names and places and the only requirement for my release (though he referred to my freedom as ‘catharsis’.)
He demanded I hollow myself out piece by piece and insisted on using only the comeliest of shapes found inside in my dedications.
He didn’t teach me thrift or economy or how to survive with pieces of myself displayed for even the most dull eyes to see.
That was how the tributes began; clumsily removed chunks of my liver pinned to cardboard regardless of rhythm, synecdoche and assonance.
I found myself exhausted all the time by my penance; the great emptying of all things.
Anyone could see the blood I’d lost, it was left to pool and harden haphazardly on my early works, forming perjuries upon reflection.
I learned quickly that there was nothing to be had from the reckless testifying I’d performed.
I embraced the stasis of reflection and learned the methods behind form and body.
I learned to strip only the hardiest arteries and veins; ones with which I could retain my ties, in my pursuit of freedom
Quickly I found myself surrounded, the elaborate tangle of strings closed me in and carried my blood out of my chest and into my bodily homages.
The nature of this penance became clear as I lay in the middle of my towering depictions of a great many things.
There was a choice to be made.
I can’t be free from this feeling until I’ve mutilated my insides beyond recovery, until I’m laid out end to end with every part of me named.
Naked and bloody and human as they come.

Just a Reminder

She is happy.
!

The Naming Of Things

Dees Pick of the Week!

(don't worry this won't actually be a weekly thing..or even a monthly thing..)

Seriously guys, this is talent. (pay no attention to the sound being off with the video)

Circus Freaks IV

Sniffing deeply, Caralee began to clean herself up a bit. The rain was picking up again and she didn't want to be sitting on the bench when it really started. She used the moisture that had collected in the cups of her palms to wipe down her face, then swung her feet back off the bench and stood up. She looked down at the crushed blossom that was her jacket. It was damp and there were little beads of water on it's concave wrinkles, but it would still make a fine towel. She wrung it out and pressed it against her face. It smelled like rain and wine coolers but she ignored the smell and dried as much of the water as she could. When she pulled it away it was printed with the chalky smears of make-up that her hands had missed. It looked like a white and red rorschach test. When she looked at it she saw a human stain, an ugly little girl with bad intentions and fat thighs. In reality, it looked like a duck.
Caralee bundled the jacket up and tucked it under her armpit, a few drops of water squeezed out and ran down her side leaving a long pink line from her armpit to her hip. She sighed exasperatedly but there was really nothing she could do about it. There wasn't a single thing to be done about any of the evening's events except return to the Carnival, hopefully with some semblance of dignity. She really didn't have a good reason for going back to the carnival, but she felt compelled to anyways. She knew that she would do no good by simply not going back. With an unusual consciousness of the sound of her feet on wet pavement, Caralee made her way back to the base of the hill.
From the top, she could see the path down to the chattering crowds clearly. There were small orange lanterns littered between her and the flamboyant tent which the main events took place in and the bodies of various strangers were huddled around them. She felt like a limping bird creeping through a wolf's den. Whenever she was forced to cross through or pass nearby one of the chattering clusters she would clutch her jacket tightly to her breast, feign interest in an object far off in the distance and press through. She felt every pair of eyes gouging away inside of her. Each glance was a talon recklessly flailing in her chest, searching for anything to clasp and tear out with a handful of sharp words. She clenched her teeth and pressed on in silence, closer to the restless masses inside the tent and further from the safety of the hill-top bench.

What it is

It's being carefully lifted from a womb that has seen much use in a span of six years
It's being read the secrets of nym, and puddle lane when you only barely understood language
It's being tucked into bed every night and having "stay awake" sung to you until you fell asleep
It's staying up late watching marry poppins and the great mouse detective promising you'll stay awake but you fall asleep.
It's playing in the park with your friends
It's going on fun walks with your dad when you were six years old and there was still SO much to talk about
It's polly pockets, the littlest pet shops,barbies, and spice girls at a friends house that was only a twenty second run away.
It's camping at Nimpkish lake with a family that wasn't even yours, catching fish and eating them for dinner that night.
It's having birthday parties where all you had to worry about was who got which piece of cake, and what was on the cake.
It's biking through bushes and creeks and mud and grass fields and falling down laughing
It's losing guinea pigs under merry-go-rounds and down slides
It's knowing that a boy has a crush on you for the first time
It's waking up at seven o'clock every morning and dancing to "damnit" by Blink 182 in your livingroom
It's going with your friends to the "big woods" instead of the "little woods" and feeling superior in numbers.
It's going to the Comox Mall in groups of ten and listening to a shitty band afterwards because boys you liked were in it
It's your first kiss
It's having fights with teachers and laying down on the school field with tears in your eyes with people who were trying to comfort you by telling you that your eyes were vibrant green
It's drinking juiceboxes and having sandwiches
It's discovering friends that had a common lifestyle,and a common hobby
It's sitting on a dirty old couch covered in horse dander in 36 degree weather when you haven't had anything to eat for 12 hours but you are enjoying yourself to the max
It's coming up with inside jokes that nobody else could ever fucking find the hilarity in
It's sometimes feeling like animals are the only ones you can relate to, and then realizing that your friends actually love you.
It's having friends that were full of fire.
It's having friends that you loved but could never be honest with, and it's hating them afterwards
It's going to your first punk show
It's your first drunken fuck up.
It's being awarded for your first 'A' on an essay and then getting 100% on every essay that followed
It's your first trip to Vancouver alone and the reunion that followed
It's crying over missed friends and then having them call you the next day
It's finding out that ageism is fucked and there are adults who you can talk to about nearly everything
It's visits home
It's horrible camping trips
It's knowing you are going to graduate soon and feeling a complexity of emotions about it
It's sitting on jungle gyms late at night and feeling more like yourself than you have ever felt before.

It's knowing that despite the fuck ups, the cynicism, and the sometimes all too bitter outlook, there have always been people there that cared about you and there have always been people you cared about.
It's knowing that that will never change.

Fully/Completely

By the way

She sipped her tea slowly, making poor attempts to delay the work ahead of her. Words here, and there, and there made things confusing. How could she have expected anything more than what she was getting, it was foolish.
"Don't do this! Don't do this to yourself again you naive stupid girl."
She wished she had a mirror to look into, a reflection to yell at, and to shatter.
Chug your tea, and get the fuck out.

it is 2:38 in the morning.
i think worries sometimes chalk up my throat.
i ingest things that cause stress signals
then imagine what it would be like if skin could be transgressed.

oh all these dangers,
the many hazards you may smell when you smell burning.
umbrellas in the hallway, fears and traps,
the men who pick the bones of animals and then throw them to other men.

did i stay long enough, make the right eye contact
will another revolution whisk us aside,
plummet all this century's precarious movements
like the bishop and the queen who formed my stature,
made me pawn.

tell me when the work is done
so that i don't get my hands all blistered
because as long as i don't breed
i will stay the right size
and sleep well, regularly.

NYK: Creating Symmetry

Just as the doors of the elevator closed on Jordan, the set of doors three feet to the right peeled open to reveal Tim's sister Nadine. Out of human curiosity, Tim looked to see who was getting out of the elevator. Nadine was standing, arms crossed with a look about her that at once reminded Tim of their shared Mother. The thin lines of moisture that Nadine had done her best to blot out, the snarl of unwelcome sadness; it was the exact same expression that their mother had worn every night as their Father stumbled home from a late night at 'the office.' In a moment of irrepressible cowardice he ducked into the small recession between his elevator and the one on his left. Apparently, seeing the fated symmetry of parent and child so plainly had quietly struck a chord. He watched as his sister stalked past his hiding place. Her entire body drooped, subject to the feminine gravity of loss Tim could never hope to understand.
He followed the slow, slapping footsteps until they stopped then waited silently for the tell-tale jingle of keys and the perfunctory slam of Nadine's apartment door. A few moments later he stepped out of his make-shift hiding place and mimicked Nadine's path until he stood before her apartment door. He knew it would be best to wait a few moments before he knocked, he couldn't bear to even think of trying to explain why he'd arrived so shortly after her. However, he knew he shouldn't keep the Chassagnés waiting. Having both Nathan and Jordan arrive at the apartment only to find him standing outside wouldn't help anything. Taking a deep breath, he raised his fist and gave two sharp raps on the door.
Two floors up, Nathan was sitting on the bed again. He’d put on a t-shirt since Nadine had left, a beaten up relic from his youth. He’d planned to give the apartment a final once over before the inevitable return of his wife, but his mind couldn’t maintain the act of looking long enough to be effective. Caught in the excruciating time between action and consequence, Nathan absently wandered the apartment. He picked up a small framed picture of Jordan and stared deep into the dusty glass. He let his eyes pour over her short blond curls and into her pale green eyes and he knew he should have felt sorrow or regret or even elation, but nothing came. He no longer regretted Nadine’s affections and he felt no shame over his infidelity. He couldn’t even muster up the necessary emotions to feel glad that it looked as though his wife wouldn’t find out. At some point between spotting Nadine in his bed and gently bidding her farewell, he’d lost all feeling.
At the sound of the mechanisms of his door’s lock turning, Nathan mind snapped back into his body. He felt the tickling sensation in his chest of panic and the small gut twists of fear, but still no remorse came. Frantically, he rushed back to the bedroom. He heard the normally satisfying pop of the lock releasing, but it only made him move more quickly. Clumsily he pulled on a pair of jeans and ran a belt through the loops around his waist. All things considered he looked presentable. Jordan clacked quickly into the apartment on business heels, peeling off her coat in a rush. As she approached, Nathan heard her joyful squeal and put on a convincing smile. She stepped into the bedroom and threw her arms wide.
“Happy new years!” She cried and then immediately tackled him backwards onto the bed. Nathan laughed dizzily as he tumbled backwards under his wife’s small body.
“Hey Jo!” He stammered, his voice muffled by a volley of quick affectionate kisses. “How was Winnipeg?”
“Shitty.” She stated bluntly before planting a firm kiss on her husband’s stubbled cheek conclusively. “But it’s okay because I’m not there anymore!” She grinned widely and slid off Nathan and onto the floor. “Are you dressed for lunch? We’re having lunch with Nadine and her brother.” She explained as she abruptly began to slide out of her stiff business clothes. Nathan felt a ball rise in his throat at the prospect of seeing Nadine again so soon, but he masked his discomfort well.
“Is this good enough? Or will I need fancier?” Nathan’s shirt wasn’t exactly high-fashion.
“No, that’s good. We’ll just go somewhere close. What did you get up to while I was gone?” She shouted from the bathroom. It was amazing how quickly Jordan moved when she needed to. She’d already pulled on a flattering sweater and a pair of tight jeans. “Nothing too seedy, I hope?”
“I wish. I just sat around all week when I wasn’t at work.” Nathan mumbled it loudly enough for her to hear without it sounding as though he needed her to hear it. After a brief storm of clatters and clangs from the washroom, Jordan emerged looking invigorated. “I decided I’m going to grow a beard.” Nathan said, smiling as she walked by. She slid on a pair of flats and her coat.
“Nathan, you’ll look ridiculous with a beard, but I’ll love you anyways.” At that, Nathan stood up, grabbed his coat and followed his wife out the door at roughly the same time as Nadine and Tim arrived at the ground floor of the apartment building.
“Are you sure you’re okay, Nat?” Tim asked, staring into the profile of her unwavering face. Her hair was down but she’d clipped it out of her face, not that it had made it any easier for Tim to read.
“Yes. Stop asking me, and don’t you dare mention it when Jordan and Nate get down here. They’ll think I’m a maniac, crying on the goddamn roof on New Year’s Day...” She’d changed out of the clothes she’d worn at Nathan’s. Somehow they’d lost their luster. She was wearing a yellow sun-dress despite the January chill. She’d put on a faux-fur lined coat on-top of it just to retain some semblance of sanity, but she still looked underdressed. “Maybe you’re the one that isn’t okay; spying on your sister, hiding in goddamn elevators... Why are you being such a creep?” Tim was hurt, but it was no new sensation. Nadine’s hostility was more reliable than the sunrise and would continue long after it’s final setting. “Sorry.” Such apologies were an infrequent phenomenon, but not altogether unheard of. Still, it caught Tim off-guard.
Tim and Nadine gravitated away from the elevator and found themselves leaning against the wall opposite the row of reflective doors. ‘Nothing reminds you how much your hate yourself quite like a row of elevators.’ Nadine thought darkly, she crossed her arms over her slightly exposed cleavage and pulled the fringe of her skirt down a bit more. The door directly across from Nadine and Tim slid open slowly, revealing Nathan and Jordan. There was a half-second contact between Nathan and Nadine’s eyes but there was nothing there. Quickly all four members of the party shifted their faces to the polite smiles shared between friends and acquaintances. Greetings were exchanged and anodyne queries of “What have you been up to?” and half-hearted responses from all sides.
One by one the group filed into Tim’s small silver car; a hatchback with a broken tail-light and a horn with much in common with a dying crow. With a clumsy rush, Tim pulled into traffic and began the slow crawl to the nearest diner with a lunch special. There was a congenial flow of conversation between Nadine and Jordan as was to be expected from people who had known each other as long as they had. Nathan and Tim had tried to talk, but the conversation had died too many times to warrant another try. The car lurched to an abrupt stop in front of an ill-timed red light and there was a startled lull in the conversation. The light changed and Tim pressed his foot to the pedal.
Staring quietly out the window, Nathan watched as they passed across the steep hill which led to the ocean-front. He stared out at the boats longingly, envious of their solitary dignity. Jordan watched her husband staring vacantly out the window and felt an inexplicable concern. Hesitantly, she smiled and with a jovial tone asked, “So everyone, who was your New Year’s Kiss?” The look which passed between Nathan and Nadine was little more than an instinctive reaction, but it told Jordan more than any possible answer could have. Quietly Jordan smiled and added, “I guess the only people I really need to ask are Tim and Nadine.” She winked boldly at Nathan, who returned a warm smile of suppressed relief. With a discrete movement of her hands, Jordan slid off her wedding band without a struggle and dropped it quietly into her pocket.

ZZZZzzap!

Stop Harassing me To Update, Travis!

She sat alone in the mist of darkness that never left her basement apartment. Outside the sun was shining. She was waiting, but she wasn't sure what for. Her mind couldn't focus, it was here, and there, and there.
She couldn't quite speak. Giggles, and smiles, and fingers from two hands attached to two arms attached to two bodies, all intertwined.
This is the afternoon, and now the apartment is empty again, and this time, everything is dark.

NYK: Elevator Music

It was Nathan that ended the trance. Without saying a word, he rolled off the bed and planted his feet on the floor, his head lolling with the meditative weariness of exhaustion. Nadine, startled again by his abruptness and enigmatic silences, turned away from the bed and towards her clothes. She picked up the pile Nathan had pointed at. He was right, they were hers. They looked cheap compared to the piles of brand-name finery that she'd plucked them from, but she loved them regardless. They weren’t her favourite clothes, but they were nice. The shirt was a deep v-neck and it bared more resemblance to a dirty rag than a shirt. However, she insisted that it fell on her shoulders in just such a way that that it made her chunky face look thin and warm. Even when the shoulders slid onto her fore-arm; exposing whatever lacy aberration she hid underneath, she still retained some semblance of class. She slid it on over her head, shoving it clumsily over her hair in an awkward rush.
"I'm sorry, Nathan." She lied. "I wish this hadn't happened." She knew that if she'd been looking at him when she said it he would have seen her inconvenient longings, luckily for both of them she wasn't. Nathan didn't really know how to respond. Following his conditioned instinct he mumbled, "That's alright. I'm sorry, too."
Meanwhile, a few stories below the uncomfortable exchange between Nathan and Nadine, a skinny man watched as a short blond woman stepped into his elevator. She was wearing a brown-leather coat overtop of a 'business-sexy' skirt and blazer. The jacket clung tightly to her shoulders and continued evenly down to her thighs where it stopped smartly. The clean-cut line was intimidating in it's abrupt halt, it expressed boundary and control almost too clearly. It was without a doubt the jacket of Jordan Chassagné. As she stepped into the elevator, taking the place beside the man who was already inside, she removed her wide-dark glasses and her lips curled back into a wide grin.
"Well I'll be damned." She laughed, placing one hand on her hip and using the other to tuck the glasses into her crowded coat pocket.
"Hey!" The man laughed in return as his lips parted into a toothy smile. Instantly the two were wrapped in the platonic embrace of old friends. Jordan's hands squeezed the man tightly, one on his shoulder blade and the other on the bruised skin of his lower back. He winced briefly, but he was too busy experiencing the euphoria of reunion to notice. Jordan was uncharacteristically unreceptive to Tim’s emotions. Unfortunately, she’d spent the majority of the previous night on a flight from Winnipeg to Victoria. If that weren’t enough, she was pinioned between a sloppy, drooling ogre and his obese wife. "Happy new year!" He exclaimed, cheerfully.
"You too! It's been so long!" She said, extending the 'so' slightly as she disengaged the hug. "How the hell have you been?" He hesitated for a moment, simulating thought before replying.
"I've been great!" The words felt like a lie, but they weren't. That morning had legitimately been a great morning. "How are you guys?" Of course, by 'you guys' he meant Jordan as well as her husband, Nathan Chassagné.
"We're excellent." She smiled, "What's your sister up to today, Tim?"
"I'm not sure. I don't think she has any hot new years day plans, if that's what you're asking." He was instinctively aloof, but he knew Jordan wouldn't be put off by it. "I'm on my way up to see her actually."
"Well kick her lazy ass out of bed and tell her we're all going for breakfast." Jordan looked at her watch briskly and noted with chagrin that the hour hand was already resting in the vacuum between the one and two. "Make that lunch." She stiffened up, slightly embarrassed at her mistake, but she quickly smartened up and remembered she wasn't on the clock. She quickly shifted her smile from the shit-eating grin of Mrs. Chassagné to the embarrassed smirk of Jordan. "I'm sorry if I'm being a pissant, Tim. I've been off on business since Sunday."
Tim smiled at her kindly and replied, "No, no, don't worry about it. I'll definitely take you up on that offer of lunch though, and I can guarantee Nadine will too." He stuffed his hands in the shallow pockets of his jeans and leaned against the back of the elevator.
"Good." Jordan nodded. Slowly behind her the elevator doors slid to a close, and instantaneously they realized that neither of them had selected a floor. Both of them reached for the panel, but Jordan withdrew her hand when she saw Tim extend his. Not wanting to seem like a chauvinist or a brute, Tim withdrew his at the same time. Amused by the comedic clumsiness of their attempts at being polite, Jordan began to giggle quietly. Tim let out an entertained chuckle and pressed the recessed button emblazoned with a black three.
"Which floor are you guys on?" He asked quickly.
"Five." She stated proudly and before the word had even left her mouth the little ochre light behind the plastic five button was lit. Hidden machinery began to gyre and click quietly as the elevator stirred to movement and scaled the dusty shaft of the apartment building. There was a clumsy silence as the box traveled the three brief floors. Both Tim and Jordan opened their mouths slightly as though prepared to speak, but neither could find words that properly reflected what was on their minds. Instead, at the prompt of the tone which signaled the elevator's arrival at the third floor, Tim simply smiled and said "See you soon!"

NYK: Love Disconnections

Nathan ran the towel over his body quickly. He was a lazy dryer but he folded the towel neatly after he was done with it. When he looked in the mirror again he felt renewed. The sickliness seemed to have withdrawn somewhere beneath the sheen of Nathan's still slightly soapy body. That first shower of the new year had been a brief moment of total peace for Nathan. He'd felt and thought nothing as he stood under the hot water, he simply let the steam and soap and water surround him and make him clean.
This zen state remained until Nathan stepped out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. More accurately, this moment of zen ended when he slid under the covers beside the woman in his bed. He'd intended to sneak under the covers and gently wake-up his wife before revisiting whatever seedy games they'd played the night before. Suffice to say, when he leaned over her to kiss her he was surprised to find Nadine's red hair brushing against his chest rather than his wife's short blond curls. Suddenly every event from the night before shot through his head like a rifle shell. He remembered Nadine arriving casually and he remembered sitting on the leather couch drinking rum and playing cards. He even remembered that he'd just ask her if she "had any sevens" when she leaned across the couch and kissed him plainly on the mouth. It was a dignified kiss; no tongue and only a few seconds of lip contact, and as she pulled away she'd whispered "Go fish."
Nathan seriously thought for a moment that he was going to throw up all over Nadine's face and chest. He put his hand over his mouth and let out a sick hiccough, but it was only the sensation of the small bud of guilt in his stomach blossoming. Nathan had been married happily for six years before that morning and he'd known Nadine for five of them. They'd worked together once on some irrelevant project and had remained tight friends since. On the other hand, Nadine and Nathan's Wife, Jordan, had been close for years before either of them met Nathan. Of all the woman who Nathan could have made this stupid mistake with, it had to be Nadine. Feeling disgusted with ashamed and disgusted, Nathan quickly withdrew from Nadine and laid himself down where he'd been sleeping. He could feel the wetness of his body soaking into the sheets, but he didn't care. "Nobody changes." Nathan whispered fatalistically, a statement followed by twenty minutes of nothing but Nathan's heavy heartbeats and the desolate static of time passing.
Nadine's eyes opened slowly, the last images of her world on fire fading as the whiteness of Nathan's apartment flooded her eyes. The brightness made her squint for a few moments but it passed as she adjusted. The only exceptions to the overwhelming whiteness of her environment was the sunlit and still wet back of Nathan, and the large incoherent print hung on the wall behind him. Nadine had realized she was in a foreign bed, but it wasn’t until she saw Nathan that the reality of the matter sunk in. She sat upright immediately her heart once again racing after settling only moments before. Under her breath she let loose a string of frustrated curses as she kicked off her blanket. She instinctively covered her breasts with her arm but quickly realized this was unnecessary as Nathan had obviously seen them.
"Shit, shit shit shit." she mumbled as she searched the room for her clothes and underwear. Hearing this, Nathan was snapped out of his thought and turned to Nadine. She was standing, silhouetted boldly against the window and for half a moment Nathan wondered "What if she didn't leave?" This kind of foolish fantasizing would be the downfall of Nathan. He had been ready to drop his entire life for Nadine as the result of one ephemeral moment of beauty. He snapped out of it but he knew that one day his fickle eyes would be the end of him. "Where's my shit?!" Nadine shouted hysterically, digging recklessly through piles of clothes on the floor.
"It's there." Nathan said bluntly, sitting up in the bed and pointing his finger at the jacket and skirt draped over a chair in the corner. Nadine jumped slightly at Nathan's voice but was too frantic to articulate any form of surprise other than a quick "Thanks."
Rather than rush to her clothes, she stood staring at Nathan. Her dark eyes appeared a richer purple than Nathan had ever seen. They just stared at each other, sizing each other up in the unfamiliar rashness of morning. Nadine was overcome by the strange realization. Despite the social proximity and the frequency of contact, this was likely to be the last time her and Nathan would ever see each other like this; naked, defenseless and completely honest. Nadine suddenly wanted nothing more than to leap over the hurdles of bed sheets between them and once again feel what it was to be a woman. It sounded stupid to say considering her promiscuous youth and the clumsy trysts of adolescence, but somehow when she had been with Nathan she had gleaned the knowledge of what it meant to be with someone, to truly feel the love connection.
Nathan did not feel the same inexplicable connection that Nadine did. To be perfectly honest, Nathan looked at Nadine and felt a complete absence of feeling towards her. When he looked at the ghostly woman standing before him he did not feel intimacy and he did not feel isolation. Her eyes were too dark, too beautiful and blunt to grasp any purchase of what what at work behind them. Their gaze only made him feel weak and foolish. He knew then that him and Nadine could never ‘be’ together. “Is this the pragmatism of maturity.” Nathan thought quietly. He realized then what it meant to be someone’s New Year’s Kiss; to be the brief champagne lips that seal the deal; that guarantee resolutions will lead to change, to provide hope despite your own hopelessness.

NYK: Fingers Crossed

On the cloudy morning of January 1st, 2007, Nadine Mercer woke up with a start on the other side of an unfamiliar bed. She was used to waking up in strange beds though. She looked around in a fever, her breathing quick and shallow from the ominous dream that passed in the night. She'd dreamt she was a bird on fire, flapping it's wings above a great black city. Behind her a war was being waged. Billions of other burning birds; ravens, crows, owls and sparrows, were fiercely snapping and clawing at each other. All of them were on fire, but due to their locked talons the flames appeared as one giant red ball. She watched as one by one the birds plunged out of the fray, the muscles in their wings consumed by the flames or by another berserk avian. She followed them down with her eyes to the dark plastic world below, lit only by smoldering avian corpses. She could see the tiny brick people leaning out of their toy skyscrapers. They all looked upwards, craning the articulated ball joints in their necks to watch the birds crash to the ground.
It was when her own wings had given out and she felt the steep air rushing past her that she'd been pulled from the dream. It hadn't been this terrific fantasy that had caused her such alarm on waking though. In fact, she'd only felt an inexplicable sense of wonder as she fell towards the Earth. Would she bounce off the old stone and playhouses; bones shattered by the impact, or would she just break straight through to the center of everything? Nadine instantly forgot this dilemma on waking. As it was, there were more important things for Nadine to be thinking about.
A few feet to Nadine's left, Nathan; the owner of the apartment and bed Nadine had slept in, was resting on his side. He was awake but unaware that Nadine had stopped sleeping. His crooked but clean teeth bobbed up and down slowly behind his lips and his breathing came and went with the quiet, unconscious rasp of indecision. He'd first awoken nearly an hour before Nadine, he'd still been curled into a ball with his knees to his chest. He woke up slowly as he did most mornings, staring vacantly at the room around him with a mind still too foggy to understand worry or guilt. He was aware that there was a body next to him, but it was hardly something exciting. He'd been sleeping with his hands under his head and when he pulled them out from under his pillow he noticed two things about them. The first was that the index and middle fingers on his left hand were crossed, the second was that the fourth finger on the same hand had a pale ring-line showing.
He wasn't alarmed by the absence of his wedding ring, he took it off most nights. In fact, the sheer lack of surprise at the bare finger made Nathan wonder if he should make a change. However, Nathan left that issue for a mind more clear, he was more off guarded by the fact that his fingers remained crossed through the night. Staring at the crude v they formed at their tips, he felt there was some childish significance to the gesture. They reminded him of an easier time when crossed fingers meant luck rather than dishonesty. Hesitantly, he uncrossed them and began to get out of bed. He was naked but still too tired to exhibit self-consciousness. The bedroom got too hot in the winter to wear clothing anyways. Oblivious to the fact that it was Nadine in his bed, Nathan yawned loudly and stretched himself towards the ceiling. His back popped and cracked as he twisted and the sun shone boldly through the east-facing window behind him. The Victoria skyline was silhouetted against the sun still low in the sky. Had Nadine been awake she would have been treated to the sight of the boney ridges of Nathan's back illuminated in the early morning light. The light hung off the protrusions lazily, they made his body look more like a rock-face than a human being. The moment was brief though, he sloughed the sun off his body like a snake-skin as he stepped off the bed and out of the sun's voyeuristic gaze.
He stepped into the small, poorly-lit bathroom adjacent to the bedroom and took his place in front of the dirty sink. Due to the low-light it was hard to tell just how filthy the sink was. Had anyone peered into it in other conditions they'd see several balls of toothpaste and small tangles of blonde hair. Such was the price of a shared sink though. He caught the reflection of his profile in the full-mirror which leant against the wall beside the sink. He looked like a ghoul in the light of the bathroom. His short golden hair appeared silver in his reflection. Wether it was as a result of the poor light or simply unnoticed aging, the effect was the same. He felt devalued and strangely guilty. The guilt was a confusing feeling as he didn't yet remember the cause. Shaking off the feeling, he did a hard blink and took a quick inventory of himself. His eyes rested briefly on his small muscles and nearly visible ribs. His body's emaciation was superficially masked by the sparse, dark body hair that covered his body and grew in a dark line along his lower stomach and underarms. The hair made his skin look healthy to other people but Nathan saw through the shoddy disguise and into the spotty skin beneath.
"What you looking so anemic about, Nate?" He mumbled quietly to himself, rubbing his eyes with the balls of his palms and letting out a deep sigh. Turning from the mirror to the shower on the opposite wall he remembered that it was January 1st. Somehow he felt as though he was obligated to make a resolution right there. He turned and once again began to stare into his reflection. "I will change." He said with firm resignation to the darker self in the mirror. With this he stepped into the shower; a glass box with three bubbled glass walls and one regular opposite the door. Before he turned on the water, he rested his hand on the shower door, and after a moment's hesitation he lifted it off. He'd decided to shower with the door open, to let the steam pour out and fog up everything. It was anodyne decisions like this that allowed Nathan to remain deluded into thinking he could change.
Nadine was actually very briefly awakened by the hiss of the water hitting the shower floor, but she wouldn't remember doing so when she got up for good. Her eyelids fluttered for a few seconds then parted to reveal her dark blue eyes which were just as quickly hidden as she squinted out the sun’s direct rays. Some people said they were purple, but Nadine ignored the novelty of such an oddity and insisted they were blue. She claimed it was just the auburn hair that made them seem otherwise. At the time, it was short and hung close to her face. If she let it, it would hang over her eyes and completely shield her from the world. She could feel the half-pain of pins and needles building up in her left arm so she slung it off the floor and onto the bed. She'd always had the habit of letting her limbs hang off the bed in the night and as a result she often woke up with a numb arm or leg. As she lifted her hand she found herself staring dreamily at a rough v formed by her index and middle fingers. It seemed that somehow they'd crossed themselves in her sleep. Smiling at the strangeness of life, she tucked her body and began to dream of birds on fire.

how i get rid of hiccups

mud love, malleable
carpeted stairs to your kitchen
swindle-faced

boxes of things

-marbled 7 inch
-rhetoric
-moonshine
-maybe a toothbrush, some old studded jewellery

late nights, cold irritable inflamed
anticipate
like disease and fear,
those that spill too quickly on to one another

lacking cadence, lacking boxes of things like notebooks and bad days.

tramping the child
who dreamt away
what was beautiful,
what was nothing but

Country Song

I stare at my own words and the stolen words caught in between
me feeling nothing for their meaning and them meaning nothing to me
but I write them down regardless you can see them on this screen
where all my detractors can find out what someday I hope to be.

I could ask a friend to touch me and maybe that would ease my mind
but in the morning I'd still wonder what they meant with that deep sigh
that let me know in time they'd leave me like a hometown left behind
I'm not afraid of feeling lonely but it's still why I don't try.

NYK

The first thing Nadine saw after she fell out of her fevered dream from the night before were her own crossed fingers. They swam infront of her as her brain tried to decipher the meaning behind them. Had they been crossed when she first drifted into sleep the night before or were they only a lingering remnant of the dreams she'd already forgotten? She stared at them for a while longer, but as her brain slowly shook off the night's dust she rapidly lost interest. As her lucidity returned rapid, important sounding thoughts burst into her mind like a lynch mob.
The first thought was a panicked and irrational voice shouting "This bed is far too warm and soft to be mine! This is a foreign bed!" The voice was correct, Nadine was in fact laying in the bed of Isaac Yorke who was pretending to sleep soundly in hopes that Nadine would simply get up and leave without saying anything. Nadine recognized that the bed was not hers and she was able to deduce even in her barely-aware state that it was Isaac's bed. Contented, the first thought receded and allowed the next thought to be heard. It came in the form of a horrified sounding voice whispering "Oh Lord, I didn't..." a question which was answered by the third thought's mumbled query of "Where are my clothes?" Both thoughts groaned at the statement of the other and suddenly Nadine's head was full of innumerable voices shrieking 'what if...'s and 'who made the first move's and 'were we safe's in panicked voices.
The racket in Nadine's head was so loud that had Isaac not been dealing with his own mob of thoughts, he probably would have heard the sound drifting through the walls of her skull. Isaac had woken-up nearly an hour before Nadine, but at the first sight of Nadine's stirring he immediately gave-in to his instinct to 'play-dead'. Isaac is well aware that he was a bit of a coward. He too had woken up with his fingers crossed, but unlike Nadine, he remembered why they'd both crossed their fingers before they fell asleep. He thought he did anyways. (Ultimately his theory would prove to be false, but neither he nor Nadine would remember the wager with fate they'd made the night before until it was too late.)
While Nadine was busy attempting to recall the proceedings of the previous night, Isaac was busy plotting the coming day. He felt that he was obligated to do something considering it was his apartment, but he had no idea what. The most urgent concern on his mind was "What is the etiquette here; do I cook her breakfast or ask to take her out?" Unfortunately this train of thought, which would prove to be one which should have been followed, was derailed by the poor choice of using the words 'take her out'. "Oh God, does this mean me and her are going to have to go out? Are we dating now? Is this how people start dating?" Naturally, a landslide of mostly irrational and consistently irrelevant questions regarding the post-coital procedures followed.
As Isaac continued to feign unconsciousness Nadine was taking inventory of the past 24 hours, had she been paying attention to Isaac she'd have noticed his breathing was quick and panicked. Luckily for Isaac, she'd only briefly glanced in his direction since she'd awoken. Nadine had sorted through most of the problems in her head simply by redirecting them to the 'answer later' department of her brain. The only thing she was interested in at the present was discovering the reason she'd ended up in a boy's bed with her pants off, wondering "Was this my New Year's Kiss?"