Throw Shit Breaks.

I know I can create good art when i'm in this mood.

i feel like a shaken bottle.

if i start talking before my pen hits the paper.. before my fingers touch the keys... before my foot kicks a tree trunk... before my hand throws the jar...

ill just yell Fuck and it will all be gone in one broken note.

i went for a walk after putting my laundry in.

i couldn't get cold enough.

i didn't wear a bra.

i ground my teeth.

i couldn't stomp hard enough i couldn't stomp.

i went and sat on the edge of the sidewalk outside the gate and just sat and threw shit into the road.

im sorry i'm swearing in my post but i just wanna bite something and this is as close as i can get.

i get why people smoke.

in some ways they are brilliant about it.

i envy them.

they leave whatever they are doing several times throughout the day and are just ... alone.

they just sit by themselves on sidewalks and smoke.

they just lean on rails and smoke.

i just wanted to throw shit.

i picked up little blades of grass and threw them into the road. I tore them up with my fingers and added bits of wet muddy leaves to my piles...

confetti.

i wanted to be alone.

I WANTED TO BE OUT ON THE ONE DAY OF THE YEAR WHEN A PERSON GETS TO BE REALLY ALONE THE DAY IT SNOWS IN PORTLAND AND EVERYONES LEFT THE FUCKING HOUSE AND I GO OUTSIDE AND TURN OFF THE LIGHTS IN THE HOUSE SO ITS TOTALLY DARK IN MY BACKYARD.

I WALK AROUND IN THE SNOW. ITS SO QUIET THEN AND I WANT TO BE DOING THAT.

then i come inside and theres still nobody home to spoil it so i sit down at the piano and touch the keys with pink bone fingers.

i expect my manner of playing to be choppy like my fingers feel... what else could they possibly produce... but instead i get simple, telling, melody lines that ill never hear again.

no body will hear them.

and then my fingers warm up and the notes slur into mush.

these are two vignettes that tell the same story.