Sunday, September 7, 2008

theres an orange haze along the horizon, but its pitch black outside. it makes it look like theres a candle lighting up the backdrop that is the sky. the water too is dimly lit, but by the moon. theres a smattering of stars, and from where i sit, all i have to do is raise my head right up to see the big dipper. its all so comforting, but bleak and desolate at the same time. its chilly out, sweats required, but nothing a campfire cant solve. dad isnt going to do a fire tonight. not sure why. i can see one along the point though, its small orange cast of light shows some life along the otherwise deserted beach. if i turn out my flashlight i can feel, rather than see, the glow cast on my back from the cottage. its perched behind me where everyone has retired. mum and dad are chatting as mum rolls a ball of yarn. sam is on the phone, and zach, well, who knows. its strange, yet the same living with them all again. funny how quickly one can jump back into a routine. things have changed though. people change as situations change. i like to think ive changed for the better since i last lived with them. then again, maybe ive just come into my own. either way, im happy with where im at. for the most part. its just people i wish i could change, but thats discussion for another time, non?

the strip of color has almost completely disappeared from the horizon and the bugs are starting to eat me. time to finish that book, and hopefully fall asleep.

Friday, August 8, 2008

white girl rap

the other night i went to a local concert to hear a friend's band play and a couple of their songs included rap, the avant garde group that they are. later on, at the after party, my friend proceeded to rap, freestyle, really terribly, but it somehow inspired me to write a little ditty of my own.

you consume me
im jona, you're the whale
im not calling you fat
but damn you're a big deal

you go through lipgloss
like its crack cocaine
watch the boys go by
in their polo shirt parade

i know a guy who calls them boyfriends
he thinks hes bringing it back
you're the stereotype of a nation
so dress to impress

you eat more cookies
than santa does at christmas
and still they call you

havent decided what to be
when you grow up
have a choice between
famous or a pin-up

you pour lemon juice
into papercuts
never blink an eye
just call it bad luck

damn straight
im jona, you're the whale
im not calling you fat
but damn you're a big deal