the stars, the moon

Sometimes when I lay awake at night I think about things I've never told anyone, dark things in the back of my heart that I try not to remind myself of, and I wonder if deep down I'm simply bad. Then I remember that everyone does things that might be horrible but the people who mean the most to me know me too well and love me regardless and in the end they are the only thing that matters, and I fall asleep and dream.

I will always love you,

Loch.

i can only tell you what it feels like.

Too many times, I trust someone quickly and it ends up horrible.

-Loch.

i can't tell you what it really is

The most frustrating things are small, like the weather dropping ten degrees and sleeping through your alarm and taking the wrong bus and how it's physically not possible to eat and sleep at the same time. The most frustrating things also tend to involve me being late, hence giving me more time to think. Even though I'm always late. Except for when I'm early.

I listened to journalists talking about conflict in the Middle East tonight and it only reinforced my interests in politics and international affairs. I wish I could take my own pictures, and that when  I did they weren't just half assed pictures of me via webcam. I also wish I had more time to write and I could still eat free pizza whenever I wanted and that I were still friends with everyone I've ever been friends with. I want it to be warm and rainy for the rest of my life, and I'm finding that novelist loch is becoming increasingly jealous of journalist loch for actually having a job/published work. A blog does not count as published work if it's not work.
sincerely yours,
Loch.

embrace the martian

It's been a while since I've posted lame pictures of myself but I guess I got tired of posting other people's pictures and I'm not talented enough to go out and actually take my own, plus I don't own a functional camera unless you count my cell phone or the beaten and battered five year old digital camera lying untouched in my drawer, but I have to open the shutter myself on that one so I think it isn't exactly something I could use to be artsy. Plus I've never really been a visual person, I still don't fully grasp what matches and what doesn't. Words are more solid, they make more sense to me.  I wish I could do photography though, because I feel like it would be a lot more concise to tell a story through an image, and all I really want to do is tell the world a story. 

This weekend was weird and I've been rambling more than usual, and daydreaming more than usual too, and I should do my bio take-home test today but the first question is literally about finding the cure for cancer (I shit you not) and I would much rather scribble about science fiction all day. PS. I am obsessed with pandora.

I know I've said it before, but I don't understand why everyone doesn't just choose happiness. It's contagious, just start with one and soon everyone will really be alive. At least try, there is nothing more frustrating to me than watching people who are simply contented to lie in their own self-pity because they're too fucking lazy to do themselves and everyone around them a favor and relax and let it be. It is not that hard.

I <3 pointless blog posts.

Love, 

Loch. 

ps. the word "much" is kind of ugly if you pay enough attention to it.

pss. I will spend most of today writing.

I tried to tell you but all I could say is

Things I wish I could say out loud-

At the end of the day,

this desk where I’ve written

thousands of words for you

and everyone else who I love

and hate and need,

who make my words explode,

is not important. Neither is the tree

I watch outside, leaves sifting lightly

in the 5 mph winds on a beautiful day,

nor the blocked-off balcony I dream

of sitting on, sipping coffee and scribbling

into the small leather notebook I keep

hidden in my pillowcase at night.

The drawings on the wall,

gifts from a best friend who no longer calls,

and the $2.43 in my bank account

to get me through the next two weeks

are irrelevant, the silence

of the room save for the sounds

of my roommate studying and

speaking less and less to me

each day are not what I think about

before I fall asleep at night.

I do not care about the bio-dad,

why he never called like I know that he promised,

like I know that he wanted to,

what he might be doing,

sipping gin on a beach in Jamaica,

starving on the streets of New York City,

lying in his grave or maybe,

trying to find me, maybe just out of reach,

imagining the different people I could be and

wondering if we’re anything alike,

and the thought of a mother,

something I stopped reaching for years ago,

will never, ever cross my mind again.

I will ignore the hospital bills sitting untouched

in the postbox downstairs

that no one has enough to pay,

just like I will forget why they’re there

in the first place. When I drift off,

all that I see anymore is a park by my house,

swings and a playground set.

I feel light heat on my back and I dream

of a job serving pizza for $7.25 an hour

that I would freeze time to stay at,

seeing you laugh through the secret passageway

from the front counter to the cut-station and

knowing that you were smiling because of me,

and I remember vividly the look in your eyes,
calling me "sheltered" and watching me fumble
over parmesan cheese containers and
the moment I knew that maybe, if I let myself,

that I could fall in love with you.

I am still checking my phone

to feel my heart jump whenever I see

your name on the screen,

and I am imagining sitting on my

blocked-off balcony, sipping coffee

and maybe smoking something in the early morning, 

listening to birds and watching the dew form, 

alone with you.

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

I know it's long, I'm gonna cut it down. It's also barely been edited, I literally wrote it in the last ten minutes. Feedback if you feel like it!

Love,

Loch.


NOTE: I am editing this poem on and off, because sometimes when I read it over there are things that I can't not change. If you see slight alterations, do not be alarmed.

extra bright

Turn up the lights in here baby, extra bright, I want y'all to see this,

turn up the lights in here baby, you know what I need, 

want you to see everything, want you to see all of the lights.

Fast cars, shooting stars, all of the lights,

until it's vegas everywhere we are, all of the lights.

If you want it you can get it for the rest of your life.

Something's wrong, I hold my head,

MJ's gone, our nigg* dead!

I slapped my girl, she called the feds,

I did that time and spent that bread.

I'm heading home, I'm almost there,

I'm on my way, heading up the stairs.

To my surprise, a nigg* replaceing me,

I had to take him to that ghetto university

Restraining order, can't see my daughter. 

Her mother, brother, grandmother hate me in that order.

Public visitation, we met at Borders,

told her she take me back, I'll be more supportive. 

I made mistakes, I bump my head, 

courts suck me dry, I spent that bread. She need a daddy,

baby please, can't let her grow up in that ghetto university,

cop lights, flash lights, spot lights,

strobe lights, street lights,

fast life, drug life, thug life, rock life 

every night,

Getting mine, baby, gotta let these n*ggas know, yeah.

Get it right, ay, you should go and get your own.

Unemployment line, credit card declined, 

did I not mention I was about to lose my mind? 

And also was about to do that line,

okay, okay, you know we going all the way this time,

we going all the way this time.

Turn up the lights in New York, baby, extra bright, I want y'all to see this.

turn up the lights in New York, baby, you know what I need, 

want you to see everything, want you to see all of the lights.

I tried to tell you but all I could say is ohhhh,

I tried to tell you but all I could say is ohhhh, 

I tried to tell you but all I could say is ohhhh.

-Kanye West, Rihanna, Fergie, Kid Cudi, Alicia Keys, Elton John

Sometimes I like reading lyrics more than I like listening to actual songs. My horoscopes have been weirdly accurate lately, and I keep having a variation of basically the same dream. I promise I'll post something real later today, I promise :)

Love, 

Loch.

she's a southern hot mess

Suddenly I miss hot summer nights in East Texas, going seventy over drops in a back road and singing Switchfoot at the top of our lungs. I miss Dairy Queen and late night volleyball and letting my hair get beyond repair with the windows down speeding on the highway. I miss when it was easier to know that people are good and that I can laugh and everything, in the grand scheme of things, will be completely and totally fine as long as I just keep breathing and loving everyone I meet.

Take me back?
Love,
Loch.

put your red dress on

When I have fears that I may cease to be

   Before my pen has glean'd my teeming brain,

Before high piled books, in charactry,

   Hold like rich garners the full ripen'd grain;

When I behold, upon the night's starr'd face,

   Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,

And think that I may never live to trace

   Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance;

And when I feel, fair creature of an hour,

   That I shall never look upon thee more,

Never have relish in the fairy power

   Of unreflecting love;-- then on the shore

Of the wide world I stand alone, and think

   Till love and fame to nothingness do sink.

-Keats

<3,

Loch.

cop lights, flash lights, spot lights

I think that the only genuine regret I have is that I didn't keep this blog a secret from the people I know.

-Loch.

wanna be your victim

Today I scribbled onto a napkin while I waited to start my shift at work, and I decided I want a constant stream of music playing everywhere that I go.

Sorry I'm not gonna post anything more interesting. Tonight was a good saturday night.
I love you, I'm not lying,
Loch.