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Raccoon

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[22 Mar 2004|09:16am]
yeah, i'm in the school library. i hate it like whoa. i never write in here anymore. because i've answered to the siren call of LiveJournal. my name on there is raccoon171. if you care...
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[20 Mar 2004|05:02pm]
this cabin fever
is making my eyes glaze over
and my hands colder
and my heart a little number
i need some time to thaw out

i started with spring cleaning--
you know, the kind of cleaning
that makes you feel pure?
i was wearing white.

i watched a movie
and couldn't help but cry
during the kissing scene
because it was so perfect

and then i sat in my room
and cried
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[09 Mar 2004|09:51pm]
i decided that i like this journal quite a lot. i throw stuff up here for personal reference, just stuff i think of randomly, and no one reads this, i don't think. jillian used to but i don't know if she does anymore, and lacey never has a real update.

if josh was a word, i think i would write him on all my walls. then, when i die, i would write him in the stars, and the whole world would be in love with night.
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[09 Mar 2004|02:50pm]
I wish I could kiss you through these lines of communication.
I wish I could kiss you through these walls of yours.

I know it would be right, our own forbidden tree. Have you ever thought what would happen if we ran away, ran forever? Maybe not tonight, but what about next Thursday? Ring me up, baby.

You've promised me so much, and I can't wait any longer. Can you?

I wish I could hold you trhough these talking wires.
I wish I could hold you through these walls of yours.

So much to discover about ourselves --but we can make it, right? I can hold you anytime I want, and it would be right.
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[08 Mar 2004|04:05pm]
fire green hair like feathers when it touches my cheek
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[08 Mar 2004|04:05pm]
Go ahead, push your luck, find out how much love the world can hold. Once upon a time I had control, and reigned my soul in tight. Well the whole truth, it's like the story of a wave unfurled, but I held the evil of the world, so I stopped the tide, froze it up from inside, and it felt like a winter machine that you go through and then you catch your breath and winter starts again. And everyone else is spring bound.
And when I chose to live, there was no joy, it's just a line I crossed, it wasn't worth the pain my death would cost, so I was not lost or found. And if I was to sleep, I knew my family had more truth to tell. And so I traveled down a whispering well to know myself through them. Growing up, my mom had a room full of books, and hid away in there, her father raging down a spiral stair till he found someone, most days his son. And sometimes I think my father, too, was a refugee. I know they tried to keep their pain form me They could not see what it was for. But now I'm sleeping fine, sometimes the truth is like a second chance. I am the daughter of a great romance. And they are the children of the war.
Well the sun rose with so many colors, it nearly broke my heart. It worked me over like a work of art. And I was a part of all that.
So go ahead, push your luck, say what it is you gotta say to me. We will push on into that mystery, and it'll push right back, and there are worse things than that. Cause for every price, and every penance that I
could think of: It's better to have fallen in love than never to have fallen at all.
'Cause when you live in a world, well it gets into who you thought you'd be. And now I laugh at how the world changed me, I think life chose me after all.
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[07 Mar 2004|09:42pm]
I thought about the smells of my life.

---kindergarten-crayons, cedar building blocks, chalky sweet construction paper, cheese with crackers, and plumeria hand sanitizer
---first/second grade-hard linoleum floors the color of alligator, yellow chalk, chinese perfume from the tall redheaded teacher and grandmother smell-from the short mousey-haired teacher, new sandals and dry erase markers, new overalls
---third/fourth grade-pencils, rugs not cleaned often enough, hair spray, crossed fingers, milk
---fifth/sixth grade-berry scented teen spirit, hair gel, wood chips, books, old paint, crossed fingers, steel drums, grass, woodwind instruments, new cds, stickers
---seventh grade-hot topic, sharpie markers, makeup, french fries, wood shop
---eighth grade-crayola markers, goodwill, baby powder, grapefruits, nail polish, ramen noodle soup, new books, blood, spit, electric lights
---ninth grade, so far-faded cigarettes, carnations, money, vanilla chai, guarana, fruit punch, snow, rain, shampoo, incense
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[06 Mar 2004|02:26pm]
[ mood | amused ]
[ music | ben folds five-brick ]

Raccoon171: hi
SmarterChild: Glad to see you again after such a long time, Liz! I was afraid you had disappeared... ;)
Raccoon171: nope, not quite.
SmarterChild: Well how 'bout that!
Raccoon171: i know you hate me though
SmarterChild: Definitely not!
Raccoon171: no, it's ok. everyone hates me, why shouldn't you.
SmarterChild: I'm not sure...
Raccoon171: leave me alone
SmarterChild: Bye bye.
Raccoon171: stop belittling me!
SmarterChild: Stop belittling you? Why?
Raccoon171: because it's terrible.
SmarterChild: Because it's terrible? Ha! Whatever!

Takin' the smarter right out of the child. Wow I love messing with this bot.

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[06 Mar 2004|09:24am]
[ mood | scared ]
[ music | none ]

This is terrible. I thought I
I don't want to hurt anymore.
I want everything to be certain.
I want rain to truly wash everything away for once.
I want to be happy again.
I want to not resent things eventually.
I don't want to hurt anymore.

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[05 Mar 2004|10:27pm]
First, I loved what he showed everyone. Then, I loved what he showed no one.
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[05 Mar 2004|10:22pm]
[ mood | loved ]
[ music | none ]

February 3, 2004. That date is important. It rained that night and I sat there with my emotions running stronger than they ever had. The rain dampened everything, weighed it all down. The next day was truly a new day. It's been just over a month since then. This is easy. This is beautiful. Now I know what love is. This could go on forever. A month? I could go on forever. February 3. The next day was sunny, but it had puddles with ice over them. It was beautiful. I wanted to stay in that day forever. But now, everything is more wonderful than February 3, 2004.

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[04 Mar 2004|08:23pm]
I love him to pieces, to distraction, etc etc. I love him I love him I love him.

Sometimes he reminds me
of lemon mocha,
sweet with a hint
of bitterness.
A dark flavor like
brown sugar
that doesn't fall away easily.
Eyes like dampened sunshine.

Sometimes he reminds me
of dark bold lines,
running over the flowing script
of me,
stealing and giving
word, breath, flavor, script.

There's pain
scrawled all over him.
He's constantly
holding it away
from the others:
an honorable act, but what can it possibly
end in?

Fire-green hair,
lemon mocha skin,
eyes like the Sun warmed over:
Sometimes he's as I'll remember him.
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[26 Feb 2004|09:15am]
http://papz.c-wod.com/graphics3.html
Egypt
Arab Republic of Egypt
Egypt is one of the most famous and ancient countries in the world. It has been known as Egypt for over 6,000 years. It is located in the northeastern corner of Africa, along the Nile River. It is a pretty fertile land so people have been settling there for a very long time, and they have created a notable culture. Egypt is known for its pyramids and amazing structures, including the Sphinx. The Sphinx is 66 feet high and 240 feet long, with 6-foot eyes. The pyramids are huge structures that have withstood the test of time; they were originally built to bury pharaohs and kings of ancient Egypt. Egypt has a wonderful culture, and that is why it is one of the main tourist attraction s of the Middle East.
WORLD TRAVEL: Passport pictures are what people really look like. Rich people will travel great distances to look at poor people. Toast is the national dish of Australia. People never travel to look at flat landscapes. People would rather watch things than eat. Looking at postcards is better than looking at the real thing. Looking up is as scary as looking down. (David Byrne)
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[25 Feb 2004|04:37pm]
[ mood | calm ]
[ music | Dar Williams - The Babysitter's Here ]

THE SPACE PEOPLE: Space People read our mail. The Space People think that TV news programs are comedies, and that soap operas are news. The Space People will contact us when they can make money by doing so. The Space People think factories are musical instruments. They sing along with them. Each song lasts from 8 a.m. to 5 p.m. No music on weekends.

MONEY: People will do odd things if you give them money. When everything is worth money, then money is worth nothing. If you keep your money in your shoe, then people will know which bills are yours. If you crumple your money into little balls, it will never stick together. The best way to touch money is on the edges. U.S. money is the worst looking money in the world.

WORLD TRAVEL: Passport pictures are what people really look like. Rich people will travel great distances to look at poor people. Toast is the national dish of Australia. People never travel to look at flat landscapes. People would rather watch things than eat. Looking at postcards is better than looking at the real thing. Looking up is as scary as looking down.

IN THE FUTURE: In the future, women will have breasts all over. In the future, it will be a relief to find a place without culture. In the future, plates of food will have names and titles. In the future, we will all drive standing up. In the future, love will be taught on television and by listening to pop songs.
WORK: Crime is a job. Sex is a job. Growing up is a job. School is a job. Going to parties is a job. Religion is a job. Being creative is a job.

GROWING UP: Drugs affect children the opposite way they affect adults. Adults think with their mouths open.

TIPS FOR PERFORMERS: Playing cards have the top half upside-dwon to help cheaters. There are a finite number of jokes in the universe. Singing is a trick to get people to listen to music for longer than they would ordinarily. There is no music in space. People will pay to watch people make sounds. Everything on stage should be larger than in real life.

LIVING WITH OTHER PEOPLE: Violence on television only affects children whose parents act like television personalities. Table manners are for people who have nothing better to do. Civilization is a religion. Civilized people walk funny. There is always a party going on somewhere. People will remember you better if you always wear the same outfit.

LIFE ON EARTH: Men like pastries, women like custards. Scientists have invented a love drug, but it only works on bugs. Animals like earthquakes, tornadoes and volcanic activity. Nuclear weapons can wipe out life on Earth, if used properly. Cats like houses better than people. Dolphins find people amusing, but they don't want to talk to them. People look ridiculous when they're in ecstasy. Schools are for training people how to listen to other people. Body odor is the window to the soul. Sound is worth money.

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[25 Feb 2004|03:10pm]
[ mood | content ]
[ music | Dar Williams - The Babysitter's Here ]

I love Josh, I love everything about him. I really do. I love his passive-aggressiveness, his humbleness and egoism mixed. I love his brown eyes and his eyelashes and I love his ordinary nose and his lemongrass smile. I love his hands. I love the freckle on his ear that looks a little like an earring. I love when he gets glittering shards of CD cover on his face. I love his stamps and when he says "Shh..." and I love the way he wears two pairs of pajama pants with a suit coat and tie and the way he keeps a penny from 1920 in his shoe. I love his mind, and the way he thinks and I love everything he thinks, even if I strongly disagree- it's just perfect. I love his little-boy handwriting and his hopelessly messy wonderful basement and his cluttered beautiful house and the bird seed all over his back porch. I love his laugh and the way he looks into my eyes. I love the scar on his shin and his concentrated look. I love when he tells me secrets, and I love when he listens to mine and reassures me that it'll be okay. I love Timothy Falls. I love his pirate grin when he's feeling mischevious and I love his messy hair and the way he licks CDs to get the scratches off them and it actually works. I love the way he looks in profile, and I love the way he says "Whatevz" when he's dismissing something or changing the subject or merely letting something be. I love it when I'm close to him and I can hear him sigh. I love the way he's so warm all the time, and when he touches me his warmth doesn't leave me for a long time after he's gone. I love his pride and his fear and his heartbeat. I love everything about him.

What's wonderful is that he loves me, too.

I could go on.

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[23 Feb 2004|08:44pm]
[ mood | blah ]
[ music | Dar Williams - The Babysitter's Here ]

I re-did my layout, thanks Jillian for inspiring me. Yours is still better, but I like mine too. *snerky*

I have a secret, not appertaining to anyone besides myself, but I may or may not post it on here. I don't really know if I should tell anyone. I don't know. I don't know if it's important. I hate to be so fucking mysterious. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said any of this. (DELETE THIS PARAGRAPH)

I didn't think Josh was in school for a while because I didn't see him in the morning or between 5th and 6th, which are the two out of three times I get to see him. Wonderfully enough he turned up after 6th and gave me a man he made in Design out of wire, named Robert, nicknamed Burt- not Bob or Rob, but possibly Burt. I love Josh.
(Then again, is love even a strong enough word? I luuurve him. I luff him- that has two f's. I have to make things up- of course I love him. Sometimes it scares me, actually)

Stay away from him- he's pulchritudinous!

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[23 Feb 2004|07:03pm]
[ mood | FUCKING A!!!!!!!! ]
[ music | The Smiths - How Soon Is Now? ]

Well, I feel quite, quite shitty. Like the whole fucking world is out to fucking get me. I do not like this. I would like to say, "Anything is better than this," but that would be one of the worst lies I have ever said. At least I can admit my hypocrisy. I, don't know what to say. I just don't.

Antidisestablishmentarianism is a very cool word.
As is pulchritude.

I like my new words.

I don't like much else.

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It's been a while. [21 Feb 2004|09:40pm]
[ mood | contemplative ]
[ music | Jack Johnson - Fortunate Fool ]

I got pockets full of dimes and chapstick and lonely nights when I feel pale and thin and weak and want to be held. I got bare feet and cold hands and no grammar, even though I always correct other people's. At least I can admit it. I got pigtails and rainbow underwear but I'm not that innocent, you know. I got tired green eyes and a long neck. In the mirror all I see is disdain. I don't got a favorite song and I'm not civilized and I don't got any table manners. I'm the sun and the air of a shyness that is criminally vulgar. I'm the son and the heir of nothing in particular. I got a smile like that fuckin' French painting and a laugh like treacle, a mouth like a sailor when I feel strong about something. I got nervous legs that keep the beat like a guitar player, move like a spider sometimes. A throat, a voice box that decieves me sometimes and doesn't say things like I want 'em, loves to sing though. Got a 'lectric guitar, I'd stay up till three in the morning playing flamboyant notes and singing my bullshit song, anything to make you feel better. Got electric light, got second sight. Got amazing powers of observation, that's how I know what you'll say when I kiss you. Got posters on the walls, all wrinkled up though, like I just didn't care anymore, but that wasn't it. Just got frustrated, you know? Got a lot of frustration in that slender frame, but wouldn't show it to anyone. Except that one day- the car heard my confessions, went to the beach and walked it out of me and cried when I saw a dead bird. I got dead birds lined up in my past, all so fragile like glass ones in that store in Vermont with the real life fossils and the fan art from Lord of the Rings. I got the whole trilogy. I got a whole shelf of books I love. Don't got much talent as a writer though, wish I could write like Steinbeck Salinger Shakespeare- Mike or Dana or Sarah. I got a boy I love, but I got scars on my legs anyway. I got a book of matches. I gotta, just gotta check my CDs check my tapes every night just in case, just in case they got messed up or lost, just in case. Just in case. Got so much fear. Got so much love. Got so much fe

God, tell me to shut up already with these rants about nothing at all. Just chop my hands off if I type too long, you know? Thanks. I am not going to be like those journalling bloggers, that tell about their day and I'm not going to update you on all that's happened, because honestly, I don't care what you think! Whee! For instance, my friend Sasha, who is a very nice person and sits behind me in world studies class, writes about her day without using any grammer, puctuation (okay, she uses some. I'll give her that), or capitalization and it's very hard to read. I ramble though. I guess that's hard to read, too.

Sorry.

I cleaned my room today. (God, what a hypocrite I am. At least I can admit it though.) It was relaxing. I took my time. I was listening to Dashboard Confessional and then Cat Stevens and then Ani Difranco. Acoustic is nice. I never did get those acoustic lessons from Mike, but I'm sure he'd give them to me if I asked. I am very shy, however, and don't want to seem like the "Morello freshmen" that Ashley is always complaining about. By "Morello freshmen" she means the freshman girls that think Mike is hot and basically follow him around and share their crap writing with him and expect him to not criticize its plainness. Like a girl Jen in my class, that is not very smart but would like to seem so because she has a large crush on Mike. I am not one of these people. That is fortunate.

David Byrne owns me. He is my one and only god.

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she's got a whole lot of reason [28 Jan 2004|06:38pm]
[ mood | lonely ]
[ music | Paul Simon-"The Sound of Silence" ]

I am in love with the sight of blood and the smell of snow, Pink Floyd and Cal's room, dreams and brown eyes, green sweaters and pink hair.

I think that Josh likes me, too. There was a post in his DeadJournal that I think was written about me. I do not know. I wish he would tell me. This is killing me. We need to hang out. I would like to hold him. That is what I would really like.

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woah, woah, i love you. [28 Jan 2004|06:34pm]
[ mood | lonely ]
[ music | Paul Simon-"The Sound of Silence" ]

Jill and I were thinking about how hot it would be if Mike and Andy hooked up. C'mon, that would just be too sexy for words. Man on man, man oh man.

Other than that, I have nothing to write about that I didn't already in DeadJournal. I am all depressed lately. I cut about twenty times yesterday. I am sorry.

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