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trehannah
09 December 2008 @ 09:05 am
There are days when i feel like lead. Times when it seems easier to lay face down on the crader faced concrete and let my body sink into the ground it came from.

This, is not one of those days. Today i'm skipping, face foward with a head full of jelly and a heart pumping hope. And i ain't talking bout that homoigenised, perservitive shit jelly, naw, THIS heart operates only on organics. This SEED was planted by the god in me, And THESE WORDS are just the result of what i don't know how to say in person. My pen is a weapon, and the ink, its ammo, yet neither are destructive or understand what they're fighting against. I constently write to never give up the fight for learning to love myself.

But everytime i play THIS game, i'm sent into the same dizzy tumble of what ifs, and remember whens. My glorification circits are sent spiriling backward, the way kids do in pools of shallow water. But my thoughts aren't that fluid. My synapses tend flicker in and out running on reserves of dopamine i keep in the parts of me i dont even let Myself see. The ideas i have are bursting behind my eye sockets, proventing me from the temptation to tamper with tear ducts. They leave no room for dispear, strictly keeping to their vow of hope. My body has turned on me, and for what better reason but to keep me alive. Constently working on creating a greater future.

My youth was spent in a washer machine of my own saliva, the timer, broken, so i never knew when my load was done. Ashamed as it made me, I was forced to display my laundry to the world. Every passerby miticuously refolding, re bleaching and eventually taking the things i had grown to love.

So i forced myself into pretending to believe in the goodness of people. In the wireless, caotic network of human beings. The times in which a stranger provided for you what a mother never could. And how you felt walking away from your new frinend whom you will never meet again in this life.

Now, i tend to spend my days trying to make this moment, Last Forever.
 
 
trehannah
10 November 2008 @ 04:56 pm
My soul feels thin and stringy. ive never had a full time job and this blows, especially since its working as a corporate whore. Im selling myself to the man, and as childish as it sounds, it hurts muthafucka! my manager just got surgery, pretty swheet deal for me in the end, seeing as i now have a steady supply of morphine at hand. With that said, i just snorted a pill and am about to jump in the shower, and go to bed. Just to wake up at 4am and call a taxi to get my broke ass to work. uah! this repetition with be the end of me, mark my words!

the guy in the apartment below me is beating his kid. and the sign at the church down the street says "democrats kill babies". Alaska's fucking nothing i can adequately explain. see it for yourself fo real. get yo broke ass's up her!


Gracie Baby is in england right now with Patrick, and i know they are having the time of their life. good thing. That girl, among everyone i know, deserves something good to go her way! Universe, reward that strong, ass-kickin worker, full time lover, hair dressing hottie, reptile crawlin rebel!

muchlovetoyouandyours,
Hanz Von Korgell :)




 
 
Current Mood: calmdrugged
 
 
trehannah
09 November 2008 @ 08:04 pm
Does it make sence when i say that i feel like i was never ment to be one of the ones to get away? i wasn't suppose to get out. I feel like everyone i care about is at home, argueing, drinking, staying up on adventures, and all i wanna do is be next to them, decaying with em. But instead i left them, just like every other face that we saw come and go. I feel less and less a part of something everyday. when will i let myself be content?

i dont regret moving here. i gotta keep reminding myself of that. Fuck regret. i just miss the the life and people and trouble of the city. At least at home we could tryin stay outta trouble, Here..there anit even any trouble to tryin stay out of!

I realise im not my brother. He is nomadic, isolated and doesn't need people. He grew up moving states every other year and taught himself not to attach himself to anything. I on the other hand was rasied in the Bay Area, it's where my roots lay. I understand i am glorifing the Bay, hell i KNOW ive been miserable there, but i got though it and i suppose thats why im so attached to it. It's where ive evolved. I need human contact. And as nice as the big, free, wide, open sky is up here, i still miss the dirt,grime, and nights of home. I feel disconnected up here, but going home isn't the answer yet. I don't know what is. Im sick of being alone. I left everything, and everyone i had grown to love.

God, all i talk about is me, me, me, and i barley even know who the fuck that is.
 
 
Current Mood: drunksaddrunk
 
 
trehannah
09 August 2008 @ 04:08 pm
Ian and I broke down in Yukon, Canada yesterday while driving to Alaska. Bad news? It's skinhead/biker land. The people here are really hospitible, there's maybe 15 of us for 30 miles in all directions. There's a motel, bar, and gas station. pretty shweet choice of accomidations if ya ask me. This 47 year old, toothless, redneck, biker, named Sandi, took me on the back of his Harley. It was great, aside from the fact he kept trying to touch me and wouldn't stop saying nasty shit. We got back to the bar and got extremely shitty with his pregnent girlfrien, Loni, and my brother.

As Sandi got drunker, he proceeded to explain louder and louder how he was going to make me eat out his girlfriend, while he fucked me, and ian would video tape it. I feel gross here and i want to leave, but the car is broken untill we get the part shipped in, and are semi sober to work on it. i just wanna get drunk alone. im tired of listening to, no longer subtle, inuendos.
bright side? eh, im drinking fo free

 
 
Current Mood: frustratedfuckin strange
 
 
trehannah
24 June 2008 @ 10:58 pm
im in a lame mood. my parents are in france. my brother is in new york. im in a big empty house for the next month. ive realised im still afraid of the fucking dark. the only thing i can think to do is listen to bright eyes and drink tea. i hate work, and i don't know how to tell my boss im moving to alaska on july 28. i relapsed 4 days ago and i don't even care. i dont want to hang out with anyone. and i ran out of laundry detergent.

i know this will all blow over by tomarrow morning, but it will be the same tomarrow night if i dont make plans to aviod it. living alone blows. i never want to end up like this. i truly need something to re-root myself. i find myself missing alot of things.

gracie just called me, and at first i thought it was cause i had just posted this most pathetic entry, but realised that i hadn't yet. i feel really un motavated right now, but it feels good to have had someone just call me. god i need to snap the fuick out of this mood.

ok first step, i am turning off bright eyes and blasing suberban ledgens.
next, fisnsh my glass of really good tea.

see hannah. your tummy and mind already feel better.
now think of 5 things you really like.
1. speaking in a accent with gracie and making other people annoyed
2. standing on really high up things
3. listening to little kids explain things
4. blasting music this loud!
5. laughing so hard it realllly hurts

time to leave the computer room and call back your dear friennd. dont re read this entry at all and remember to brreeeaaathhe.
 
 
 
trehannah
21 February 2008 @ 02:27 pm
Even before your baby is born, a diaper arrives on your doorsteps, courtesy of Pampers. Once he opend his eyes, his childhood will be a whilwind of logos and ads. School will be themed with endless commercials from sponsors. His heroes and role models will encourage him to buy products. By adolescence, he will have lost most of his original thoughts and emotions; he will look for cues from the marketers who have been with him from the begginnming of his life to decide how he is to look ,act and feel.

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Cool usd to be about being. It was the soulful jazz singer, the spastic beat poet and the wandering rebal. It was something raw and electric that they epitomized - a spirtual sinew that became their creative drive.

Cool used to emphasize substansce over style. It wasn't abut listening to a type of music, watching certain films or having interesting things. It was about giving birth to an idea that would radically change our social, political and cultural constructs.

When corprations commodified cool they stole it's essence and turned it into something shallow and superficial - people no longer needed to be cool, they could simply buy it. To reconquer cool we must once again 'be cool'.

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-ADBUSTERS
 
 
Current Mood: worn out
 
 
trehannah
18 February 2008 @ 10:13 pm
I had this dream last night where i was in love. I didn't know who the boy was, but i did know the emotion. Right away, it was something i hadn't felt in a while. It was amazing, like my insides didn't exist and i was just made up of real big uncontrollable smiles, teeth nibbling through my stomach lining to show off their unapologetic instincts. i felt like everything was spinning and the sun and the moon had settled their differences and the prey stood up to their predators. it was the realist thing ive felt in awhile and i wasn't even awake.

 
 
Current Music: Fugazi - shut the door
 
 
trehannah
01 December 2007 @ 07:48 pm
seil  
so ive lied. im not 300 something days clean. not even close. 2 months ago i relapsed and told no one. i didn't believe it and thus made it untrue in my mind. i felt like it would be just plain dumb to tell anyone. i wasn't dissapionted or sad or angry. i suppose i just blocked that shit out and it didnt come up again. never did i actually tell people i was clean, i just said i didn't know how many days sober i had. i suck. i know.
then 2 days ago relapsed once again. this time, it sucked. alot. i stayed up all night in my bathroom in front of my heater shaking. meth mites all overagain. vacent expression in the mirrior. who the fuck was i to think that this was ok. last year it seemed so right. now..i just feel dumb. dumbshit. i don't know. this time im not going to fucking pretend that it didn't happen. admit that shit and move on right? i dont know anymore. i feel so distint from the person i was, or wasn't...it makes me sad. i wish i could go back to the days when i didn't give a fuck about me or anyone else. i felt powerful and now? now i am just a lier.
 
 
trehannah
16 November 2007 @ 03:33 pm

im falling for a 25 year old guy named Nick who lives in the stockton homeless shelter who just got out of prison for assecory to murder and let me tattoo my name and number on his arm after fucking me in the islander motel elevator. this can't be good

 
 
trehannah
20 September 2007 @ 04:47 pm
i was sitting a eagles today with a pen and paper.

Today was the not streching sunrise it could have been. I did not revolve around an idea or play along with the fact that i try too hard. I was not outstanding or the inevitable relapse of a criss-crossed empty cold AA chair that will continue to hold unkind secrets. i was what i have always been and will continue to be long after this body says fuck this darling, its time to part ways. Im learning to expect this with open arms, learning to adapt the the fact that i will never understand, and for once im trying to imbrace the thought of happiness being ok. i am afraid of you. I am afraid of what you could be that i might never be able to come to terms with. Its the way i hold things back, the sucking and sucking and absorbing. i tryin keep keep coming without letting a drop of you out.  

While somewhere in Malasia their is a child that will never hear our story. never never never will they think of the nights we spent spun sweating swimming in the sheets of blood stained spills. the moments in which we would rather die than to let go of the others body. The days that ran into weeks that ran until they conviced us to do the same and run along with them, leaving everything we knew in return for all we were ever promised. we did this with no plan or pity or underlying passion. We did it for we thought we had no other choice. There is no ultimate escape. there never was.  we are only our stories. we are only what we have ever tried to explain.