Thursday, May 26, 2011


Write about your one night stand experience, if you've never had one, make one up.

I remember it being loud. Too many people talking and trying to dance to “Just Dance.” 
I’ve had a bit to drink but I remember everything. I remember my girlfriend calling me for the seventh time and letting it go to voice mail for the seventh time. 
There was smoke and lights. I remember thinking it looked like a painting. Then everything became blurry. Everything melted into everything else. Everything looked like runny watercolors. 
When things came back into focus, there was a girl sitting on my lap. Her hair was gold and her accent was southern. She kissed me and called me sweet pea. She kissed me and put something in my mouth. 
She told me to come home with her. I remember saying yes.  
When I came to, I remember being in a dark room. She was undressing me. I asked her what her name was and she told me while she was kissing me. She kissed me everywhere and I remember being cold from the moisture. Everything became a blur again. I remember only snapshots. Only quick second poloroids of time. Her on top of me. Me on top of her. Her sitting on my face. And me on top of her again.  
In the morning, when everything was no longer a blur and nothing looked like a painting, I remember her gold hair on my chest and her arms across my chest.  
I remember her waking up and her big blue eyes smiling at me. She kissed me and called me sweat pea.  
I remember my phone ringing and me picking it up out of habit. I remember the tone of my girlfriends voice when she asked me where I was. I remember a knot in my stomach. I remember my heart rate elevating.  
“Where the fuck are you?” she yelled. I heard her parents in the backround. 
What I did then, THAT i don’t remember.

I was lonely, confused, and painfully forlorn. Devoid of all the love and affection I once sought for in someone who I thought was my world, my only, my being. He left, he left, it’s been a month since he’s been gone and I was left alone to pick up the pieces of myself. It was so pitiful I couldn’t bare it. I couldn’t stand how cold it was at night and how long it took for my bed to warm up. My full-size mattress felt like a California King. I couldn’t sleep. And the empty places where his things were made the silence pound in my ears. It screamed at me and reminded me of things that used to be. I couldn’t bare it. 
And so, I did it. I did what I didn’t think I was able to do. 
Who is this stranger, in my bed? Who’s clothes are these, strewn so carelessly across my floor? I don’t know. These hands that roughly caress me are not his, these thirsty kisses do not come from him, and these eager advances tell me that this is all too unfamiliar, yet in intoxication my body is now accustomed to its rhythm. 
This stranger is merely a man that reminds me of him, merely a slight hint of the essence of what once was, and with each thrust, with each wave of ecstacy, I forget. I forget. 
And now, lying here in the foreign solace of a man’s arms whose name I do not and will not remember, I think of him and the love I lost and I cry at my attempt to fill my void. 
Heartbroken girls make the best whores.

frida kahlo.

watched frida last night..

this tango scene was a bit awkward but sexy, nonetheless.

Wednesday, May 25, 2011

just sometimes.

sometimes, i wish it can start over. clean slate. a new story to write. i'm a little bitter with this one.

Tuesday, May 24, 2011

san francisco.

I just realized that I didn't write about my weekend trip to San Francisco.
We went up by Greyhound on April 29th and stayed there until the following Sunday.


Started a writing exercise with my friend Jonathan Navales.
We have similar writing styles and I thought it would get interesting.

Here's the first topic: Write about a character's moment before death. First person.

There’s a ringing in your ears and a light in your eyes. You can’t describe it exactly, cause it’s all too much at the same time. It’s disorienting. It’s the teacups ride at Disneyland. It’s colors and blurs and a knot in your stomach. 
I want to tell you it’s a profound, “oh, this is what it’s all about,” moment. But it’s really not. It’s equal parts you mad, sad, and scared. It’s equal parts of you mad that it happened so quickly, sad that you’ll never get to finish whatever it is you started, and scared that you’ll never get to _____ ever again. Stir with a bit a salt and serve immediately.
it's not a serene feeling. 
no, despite what these authors write and what hollywood portrays, serenity has failed to engulf me like a wave and i am not drowning in it. there is nothing peaceful about this, nothing pleasant. in fact, it's a whole lot of nauseating regret. it's enough to move me to tears but the anger counteracts the sadness, almost as if i took poison and its antidote all at once. i regret the moments i refused to live, the relationships i refused to patch, and the dreams i left behind. i am angry that i am even feeling regret, angry that i've been so stubborn to think that i was right to let go of those people i am thinking of now, and angry at the fact that i am even here. right here. right now. it's unfair. 
it makes me feel even better that i know that at any given moment, my bowels and bladder will empty themselves of whatever's stored in them. 
how attractive.

Jonathan's made me revive my neglected Tumblr account for this story exchange.
I'll be posting both of our writing on this here blog as well (because I heart Blogspot).
We're also taking turns coming up with the topics of each "short", if you can call them that.
I'm excited for the exercise my brain's gonna go through for these.
Especially with this next topic he just texted me.

Let's write away now, shall we?

Monday, May 23, 2011

dedicated to last forever.

dream states, far fantasies,
farfetched catches stretching the galaxies.

Friday, May 20, 2011

what i'm working on...

while i'm updating my resume,
designing my business cards,
& writing out my next short.

talk about multi-tasking.

Thursday, May 19, 2011

summertime true blood.

If there's something I can't wait for, it's a new season of True Blood.

I love, love, love, love, LOVE that show.

The opening credits itself is so epic.
& ugh, Jesus the gardner, I just fucking LOVE this song.

GIANTS vs. dodgers.

i seem to have forgotten

the benefits of self-promotion.

hi everyone.
follow me on twitter
ask me anything on formspring
update yourself about hellfyre club
get up on swagg news

& i promise
you'll be very happy.

eye heart yous.

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

(there is no) greater love.

i've been super stuck on amy winehouse lately.
i'm in love with her voice and the way she translates words into her music.
and i usually love her rendition of the songs she covers oh-so well.

there is no greater love than what i feel for you
no greater love, no heart so true

there is no greater thrill than what you bring to me
no sweeter song than what you sing to me

you're the sweetest thing i have ever known
and to think that you are mine alone

there is no greater love in all the world, it's true
no greater love than what i feel for you

you're the sweetest thing i have ever known
and to think that you are mine alone

there is no greater love in all the world, it's true
no greater love than what i feel for you

i've been mute.

I know, I know, I've been gone for a while. I'm on silent mode when it comes to this blog, regretfully enough. I'm keeping busy, picking up various writing assignments and what not. I've got a lot on my hands. That's my problem--I never know when's enough. Or even when to say no (when it comes to projects, you naughty kids). I tend to put a lot on my plate and I'm beginning to think I like feeling overwhelmed. I write for Swagg News and Light Meets Night and I intern for Hellfyre Club... Not to mention my personal life, in which the social aspect is totally kind of...forgotten about, haha.

Creatively, I've been at a standstill--I don't really write as much as I used to. Yes, it's because I'm not feeling emotional as I once used to, and all in vain I've even tried to replay every scene of heartbreak in my head in hopes that something worthy of literature would be born of it. Remembering something as heavy as that and actually going through all those moments have different effects on my creativity--writing about it in remembrance just doesn't have the same affect as opposed to writing about it as it played out. Or maybe I'm just too OCD about my any case, I've been uninspired.

Anyway, I've been going about my life without really knowing just what it is I wanted to do with it and I think I finally figured it out. Well, more like pieced the puzzle together based on the choices I've been making since 2009. It's kind of obvious to see that I'm leaning towards the music industry (underground, mainstream, those labels don't seem to exist anymore) and with the way I'm going with my journalism? With maybe a big position at a certain music label (cough Hellfyre cough)..

I just need to hurry up and get my ass back in school.

Oh, and side note, I'm totally addicted to It's A Grind's Funky Monkey.
Absolutely addicting.

PS) I love the way my Cosby sweater looks in this picture, haha.

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

he was, he was, but now he's not.

These walls scream his name,
Grabbing my attention like a bright flashing neon sign.
"I was here. I was here. And now I'm not."
These books, these sheets, these doors.
"I was here. I was here. And now I'm not."
Every corner of every room.
"I was here. I was here. And now I'm not."
It's enough to drive me insane.

The emptiness of his presence intensifies my imagination,
every car sounds like his.
Every footstep sounds like his.
Every jingle of keys.
Every car alarm.
Every closed car door.
Every knock.
Every doorbell.
Every voice.
Every laugh.

My ears strain to hear the sounds of his arrival,
heightened by my hopes and imagination.
"I was here. I was here. And now I'm not."
It's enough to drive me insane.

I imagine the warmth of his body on his side of my bed,
the steady pace of his heartbeat,
the soft sounds of his breathing...
I imagine the tickle of his hair,
but that's just what it is.
He was here. He was here. And now he's not.
It's enough to drive me insane.

Tuesday, May 3, 2011

rebounds? i don't think so.

I don't believe in rebounds.

Oh, sure, my experiences regarding the opposite sex (when it comes to relationships) are limited, if existent at all. I mean, I've barely stepped into my first serious relationship at the age of twenty-one and he's the only "notch in my bedpost". I didn't really start dating until I was seventeen or so, and the furthest I've ever went with a guy (before my boyfriend) was one drunken handjob that just...happened (seriously, I don't even know how it even came to play at the time). However, it would be a lie if I said I didn't go through a lot in that short of a time span (I laugh at my three year dating career). Like everything else about my life, it's been kind of...chaotic. But that's what makes me that much more interesting, I guess.

Before I go any further, let me shed a little light on my history.