|lolo and the pony||2007-09-22 08:00:48 ET|
Once upon a time, there was this girl named lolo, who was always picking on herself for the most untrue of things.
One day, while she was walking through a grove of ash trees, she came across a pony who was hitched to a cart and wearing blinders so he wouldn’t wander off. When the pony heard little lolo stepping through the leaves of the forest, he had to turn his head and look at her directly, as to see her at all. At her sight, the pony smiled wide, but lolo turned away, covered up, and hid her face.
The pony asked, “Why oh why dost thou hidest? Thou art beautiful.”
lolo glanced back at the pony shyly, and then whispered in his ear.
“Neigh!” replied the pony. “I wearest the blinders, but it is thou who art blind.”
The pony then, in pony speak, whinnied a prayer to the fairy of oats and hay. Lolo thought the pony was loony, but to her dismay, a ball of light bounced through the leaves of the forest, and settled into a pixie wearing wings the color of oats and hair the color of hay.
“My most faithful pony, what favor dost thou seek, that thou hast summoned me here?” said the fairy.
The pony replied, “With these blinders, mine eyes are of little use to me, so pluck them out with thy wand, and place them in the hands of she.”
The good fairy of oats and hay was in disbelief. “For what purpose dear pony, wouldst thou ask me to perform such a horrible deed?”
The pony whinnied again, “Them both, place in her palms, so when she is next before a looking glass, may she see what I see.”
The fairy of oats and hay wept as she fluttered before the eyes of the pony, who was still smiling as he took his last look at lolo.
She raised her wand before his eyes, but in the very last moment, lolo stepped forward. She removed the blinders, stared deep into the eyes the pony was about to lose, and she shook her head to the fairy. At last, she saw herself in their reflection.
The good fairy knew she was no longer needed, and poof! she vanished, leaving behind only a mound of oats and a pile of hay.
The pony then said to lolo, “Happy I am, that thine eyes have begun to see thee true. Pray thee climb up now, for no one ever seeks to ride in this cart hitched to me.”
To this lolo replied, “If I get in the cart will you cut out this stupid wannabe Shakespeare speak?”
The pony nodded and lolo climbed up and sat at the reins of his cart. The pony began to pull her through forest, until she pulled back on his reins. “Aren’t you gonna eat all those oats and hay?”
The pony neighed, “Fuck that shit. They got a much better menu at this vegan place at the edge of the forest.”
And just like that, lolo and the pony lived… Okay, they went out to lunch.
|</3||2007-07-25 14:09:46 ET|
"Heartbreak almost always comes. It's doled out from heaven, like cheap Halloween candy bought from a bulk bin."
|Chenille Throws||2007-06-25 15:17:27 ET|
“Cuz I hate that song?”
“So?” I didn’t even think he heard me cuz he’s still in the other room. My stupid bra itches. Here he comes, “I don’t like it either, but I wouldn’t’ve skipped it.”
“So what, we have to listen to it when we both don’t even like it?”
“No. Here’s your blanket. I’m just saying. I guess I don’t just skip songs like you do.”
“You change channels lots.”
He’s so cool. He never minds getting up to get me stuff. I think it’s cuz he’s older. He doesn’t tuck me in for shit, but I love that he’s a guy who owns chenille throws. I press the back button on the click wheel.
“What? I thought you said you wanted to hear it.”
He’s shaking his head. “You just interrupted the other song now too.” He’s laughing. I love him. He doesn’t really get mad like other boyfriends.
I’m all bundled up like a burrito. My iPod is under the blanket with me, but he has a cable long enough that plugs into the stereo. I hit the stop button.
“Why’d you stop it?”
“Shit, I don’t know. Cuz we’re talking? So we can like listen to something else?”
“I’m just saying.” (He says that a lot. I’m just saying.) “It’s so easy to skip things now.”
I don’t say anything. I’m still just a burrito.
He reaches under the blanket. He touches my leg. I exaggerate how much it tickles, but he’s reaching for my iPod. He takes it and holds it up. “Do you remember what came before this?”
“Not right before. Remember high school? Remember how cool it was to have a tape deck in your car?”
Now I’m laughing. “No.”
“God sweetie, you are young. Anyhow, it was too much of a pain in the ass back then to fast forward through songs because you wouldn’t know when to hit the stop button. So you were sort of forced to listen to entire albums, even songs you didn’t like as much. But then you got so used to hearing songs in order, that when a song ended you actually wanted to hear whatever you knew was coming on next. If anyone ever made you a mix tape it would fuck it all up.”
The threads on this blanket aren’t just smooth, they’re slick. It must be rayon.
“But it made you like a lot of songs on the album that you wouldn’t like otherwise. Probably just because you got used to them. But now, with these things,” he’s holding up my iPod again, “you can skip over stuff without even looking. When was the last time you even listened to a full record all the way through?”
“I don’t know.” I don’t even think about it, but I like being part of his point.
“It’s like now we listen to someone only until we’re sick of them." He pauses. "Wait, hold on a sec.”
He smiles. “Yeah, brb.”
He runs to the kitchen. I like when he gets all excited and stuff. It’s cute. He yells from there, “Remember how we met?”
He comes back. He has my laptop under his arm. I’m so glad his house has wireless. He plops on the sofa next to me. “Here look,” he says.
“Well, what do you see?”
“It’s your MySpace. I already looked at yours a bagillion times today.”
“Fine, let’s look on yours.” He clicks on my profile. Scrolls down to my friend list and clicks.
“Why are you clicking on Amy?”
“I don’t know. It says Hola Kitty.”
“Yeah, that’s Amy.”
“Okay.” He scrolls down to her friend list and mouses over to someone else’s pic. “You know her?”
He moves to another pic. “What about her?” I shake my head. He clicks. Then he scrolls and clicks on a girl in her list. And then a girl in that girl’s list.
“What are you doing?”
“Here, look at her list of friends. We don’t know any of them. I don’t know any of them. But they’re all there.”
“I’m just saying. We only have to click on them.”
He puts the laptop on the coffee table and crawls under the blanket with me. His feet are cold.
A blanket has to be really big to keep two people warm. There has to be enough of it to fall into and fill up the valleys between their bodies. When it’s all stretched out, it’s worse. It’s actually colder. That’s the trouble with throws.
|My Citrus Poem||2007-06-18 08:42:49 ET|
says that i shouldn't
i have too much heat
in my body
i've been depressed
and feel cold
and so today
i think he can stick a needle up his butt