My Blog

don't worry, its empty

lizrad — Thu, 22 Feb 2007 19:59:19 GMT

sitting around one night, drinking scotch we had our glasses sitting on the floor someone got up and knocked one over but it was empty so nothing spilled

heartbeat

lizrad — Thu, 22 Feb 2007 19:58:02 GMT

the heart tightens into a fist and then expands as infinite green and red space nosebleeds and old cigarettes coughs stinging nettles in the hand relieved by ferns gathered by friends all dissolves

women

lizrad — Mon, 25 Dec 2006 03:25:23 GMT

i am a pretty shy girl and seem to have trouble finding female friends. i have the most amazing friends but they are all boys and honestly, i need some female companions. i want some girls to come around but dont know how to meet them. i guess i am hoping they will just come around magically.

emptiness

lizrad — Tue, 07 Nov 2006 21:08:41 GMT

what is the nature of the sky? one summer day i realized that the sky - synonymous with space - exists the same directly in front of my face as it does high above me in its blue mystery reality as empty space that happens to become filled with appearance (light) of course, just knowing this only goes so far...but it is beautiful when i was very young, i often imagined that i was alone floating in space among infinite stars and this world (my family, home, everything) was only a dream i dreamt way out there. or that i was a child lying in a coma on a bed somewhere dreaming all this...or that i moved around and talked, seemingly blind, with purpose unknown to my family who saw me as "ill", interacting with invisible people and things in my dream, someone everyone looked at as crazy but i really believed i was living a real life

Train II

lizrad — Tue, 07 Nov 2006 21:02:22 GMT

March 29, 2006 Waiting for the Friday afternoon train, I sat on the bench facing the tracks. There was a man there, in his 40's perhaps, carrying a large backpack and wearing a hat. Looked like a sherpa, really. We stood next to each other checking the schedule, reviewing the time the train was expected to arrive, making sure we hadn't missed it. It seemed that 1:07 had passed, but the train was not yet here. I sat down on my bench again. The sherpa walked in front of me towards the man standing to my right by the tracks. He asked him if the train had been here yet. "No...it's late", was the man's reply. Walking back, there was a loud "POP!" when the man stepped directly in front of me. His foot had broken a glass vial that lay on the ground, but he didn't seem to notice and continued walking. A few minutes later, from my left again, came a blind woman with her dog. I moved over on the bench and said "Hello." Sitting down, she asked me if the train had been by yet. Like the man, I told her it was late. There was some very brief discussion about it from the man by the tracks. The thing about this woman is that she reminded me vividly of my best friend from middle school, who is blind. We're still in contact and she happens to still live near that train station. These women have in common not only very similar eyes and facial features, but also a clear love for animals. The southbound train came by and I sat on the second floor. I put on my headphones, turned on some music, and looked out the window at the fleeting display of light, color, movement, shadow and shape. The conductors came by to ask for tickets, but as usual, they didn't notice me, despite standing right below me talking for 5 minutes. Train windows - fluid view. Continuously changing deep detail, flyer mind. Graffiti - "HINDU" on the soundwall. Man blowing leaves, slowly. Lot of only with tall, green grass. Sitting dog, staring at the moving metal lozenge. Yard filled with old cars, rainrotten with open hoods. Pulling up to a station, there's an old man sitting on the ground with his chin propped up in his right hand. Nervously, but with curious grace, he picked his nose and chewed on his fingers. Walking down the stairs from the platform to the large brick train station, I noticed the sherpa walking in front of me. Standing outside, waiting for a friend I hadn't seen in months, I noticed the different kinds of attention I got by standing in different places. Everyone's eyes were drawn to me when I stood in the open, so I blended in to a tree by a bus stop. The only person who noticed me there was a man, probably Indian, but perhaps Nepalese or Tibetan, who asked me for directions but to whom I could only suggest he look inside the station for a map or bus schedule.

when the psychedelic soapscum foam begins to peel away

lizrad — Tue, 07 Nov 2006 20:59:17 GMT

an old blog entry from february 7, 2006...entitled Train I I found myself sitting on a bench in front of the train tracks. I was reading and drinking coffee. Looking around myself, quieting my mind, I regarded the surroundings as symbolic of my inner self. Tracks for trains which I do not intend to take, a yellow sign, "WARNING: LOOK BEFORE CROSSING." A warm, sunny, February afternoon. I look up from my book as a woman with a cane sits beside me, takes a newspaper out of its plastic wrapping, and begins to read. After continuing my reading and sipping for a few minutes, a man walks up to me - between 18 and 20 years old, tall, wearing red and black, and carrying a black garbage bag, presumably to collect cans for money - but, to be honest, I didn't actually see any cans. He hung around the trash next to the bench, and said "Are you hot in that sweater?" "No," I replied, "not really." He asked me my name and my age, taking out his phone, and I gave him an answer. He put his phone away, and responded that he is Andre, he is one year older than me, or that I am one year younger. I don't remember. All the while he is pacing slowly back and forth in front of me. I said "It's nice to have met you, Andre," and went back to my book. He asked me what I liked to do, and then filled it in with the presumption that I like to read and drink coffee. I then took my final sip of coffee, and remarked that since I had no more coffee, then now I must only like to read. He asked me if I knew what he liked to do. I looked up at him, and asked, genuinely interested, "what's that?" and he replied that he liked to fuck. I told that was a good thing to do, I supposed, but in response to his asking if I liked to, I said no. He began to say something else, like if I had ever fucked before, and the southbound train roared in, covering him up. I wanted to kiss that silver, glowy train! Perfect timing. The conductor asked the woman next to me if she needed assistance (we were on the passenger assistance bench), but then remembered that she only ever goes north. Went back to the book. When he returned a few minutes later, he was standing on the tracks in front of me. He said "goodbye, Elizabeth" and I said, "goodbye." I looked back at my book and that instant the northbound train came roaring in, obliterating Andre into nothingness, and the woman beside me got on the train. I got up, a mosquito bite now on the left side of my neck, and walked down the street and sat near a fountain. That night, I received my new name.