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NOTINTRENDFRONTGIRL
Age: 17
Location: Twin Falls ID 83301
Joined On: Nov 10, 2006
Occupation: musiscian, Artist, actress, student, and all around pick me up person to run to for advice, for life, for love, and compassion
Website: here
BENSHALLDEFY[416]
Shirlheath
yea life in twinfalls is like life anywhere... theres drama and people who think that their somthing their not. what can you do other than love the music scene here and call this place COMPtwin- Look out for my record label Not In Trend and any bands that record with me. I shun no music except for that which will be lost in the dust of its similars.
drama
this chair.... It's so cold, so barren so lifeless. Can't really figure out why we're here in a temperate classroom learning about nothing from someone who knows nothing about the nothing that we're required to learn. I guess, all in all, i don't mind school. It's just this goddamn desk. It's so ALIEN!
I feel my back start small vibrations from the drafts that permeated through the thin windows. And yes they were thin, the glass old and worn, so that a breeze would rattle them in their casing.
"Christa!?"
I blinked. I looked toward my literature teacher's desk. She tapped at her daily planner in a comical satyre of anger. In reality she loved me.
"Yea?"
"Tell when and where Shakespeare was born."
"um....."
"um?"
my brain raced, reved, galloped and choked.
"Christa you need to be able to focuss in on class discussions, now please, everyone turn to page..."
I felt cold and sick and my pitted stomache writhed with venomous defiles of the deep. I hated it when teachers did that. Another shiver. The sun outside had cast mini violet replicas of the builings across the fields of grass and rivers of concrete. A small hybrid cruised by like a mach 1 jet. I played with words inside my head.
Too many blurs to be able to count them
They race so idly by
I dare not to try and pace them
For fear that they may pass me by
Another car, this time sluggish and rusted. Scraps of living junkyard with rashes of cream and blue paint. All the rusted metal seamed to be living tissue trying to shrug off a dead, outdated skin.
Again came lyrical nonsense into my head
By chance one day I graced to meet
A stranger who stranger still
Allowed to me not a blur to be
As if he'd heeded my will
i doodled absent mindedly on my loose leaf paper. I began a little comic, about a character with a tooth pick body and marshmalow head. I name it rose. I inked in a large open meadow, and then a large old truck. the truck was old and decrepate and had off white and forget me not patches of paint that blended in with the sky around it. Its expired steal chasey matched to red clay dirt that it's sad rubber had deflated in. plants grew on it. The truck belonged.
Rose sat down by the truck and picked out a piece of wheat like grass. twirled it between her fingers. sighed.
"Why do I always come here...?"
Asked Rose of the country species of motorvehicle.
"Is it because i know you'll be here?"
tears hit her eyes, and she curled up around the base of a tire.
"Maybe it's just because--"
"CHRISTA!"
I jumped.
"Shakespeare's Wife?"
"Anne Hathoway"
"OK, for a second there i thought you'd left us again on the wings of a..."
"Because you let me slide away on the wings of a different seraphin. I can breathe a little while when i come to the meadows you guard. I forget I'm lonely, and rug dependent, I forget that I'm never going to be anyone TO anyone..... Maybe that's why I come here..."
Rose closed her eyes and slept.
Out of the Truck a meak angel appeared.
"I know why you come here..." he whispered.
"You come here because I will guard you in the dark, and will lead you so that you will not stumble. Somehow you know this, and this is why you come."
The being slid back into the patchy raw material, all the while watching with maternal care the rise and fall of Rose's chest until he himself could be seen no longer.
intro to me
so many drawings
so many drawings
and my spine began screamin aloud to me
"MAKE IT STOP"
the back of my tongue was slick with the sickness of art so rushed and squeezed freshly
as a side note i would like to mention that my soul is not an orange
you will not get a tasty treat of life force by draining me out
then a top the mounting pressure is that ever present reassurance that people are too backwards
"I LOVE YOU"
~no you don't...~
"NO I SWEAR I DO!"
~well ok, i love you too then~
"OH NEVERMIND, I DON'T LIKE YOU ANYMORE"
and this is how I'm suppose to learn to trust people?
Am I to toss away all the passion i have for special things, and with it gather up the chisels of a once fragile heart, put them together into a pretty package and give them away carelessly to a reckless soul who will more than likely ruin whatever something I've got?
No, though again here i am....
here i stand in a statuesque position, perfect for flying fowl to shit on me asthey feature a passing fancy
does a portrait get to chose whether its displayed in a gallery or hung in a musty cellar with mold and decay wreaked upon it?
do sculptures know if they are going to be worshipped and immortalized, or frankly turned into ash trays, and spare parts?
when an artist makes a piece of work do they intend for that representation, that brief and almost pure piece of their soul to be damaged so unjustly?
i would hope not.
I suppose the best question is, though filled my head may be with dorian grey and oscar wilde's frilly and dripping language styles, are we humans works of art, or works of careful chaos that happen to have the occasional fluke of charitable kindness that save us from damnation.
think about that
<3Lexi<3
or
NOTINTRENDFRONTGIRL
@>^~~~~~~
roses- song lyrics
Wait for Me
Grow for Me
So that when I find You again
Find You once more most intimate friend
I can find You
And blind You
Like the sun to Your flower
Through midnight
And Spring shower's
And one day when Your bloom is just right
I will take You for My own
From the world and let You die in My arms
And cradle Your thorns
Caress Your wilting petals
You look up into My eyes
My whole season comes to an end
Dear Friend
You break My heart as You wither away
You break My heart as You wither away
Like the summer that came
Summers before
In the same park
Under the same sky
We will be
You and I
Together we'll be
Just You and just Me
And this summer will sweep over our souls
Like the whole of the sea
And yet we'll remain
Unchanged; the Same
But if promises too
If they came to dust
I swear to God I'll go to our garden
I sear I'll go and plant myself thus
Caress Your wilting petals
You look up into My eyes
My whole season comes to an end
Dear Friend
You break My heart as You wither away
You break My heart as You wither away
