sharing as therapy

doctor rose turned me over to sheena today, whose big, black, fake lashes and monotone voice are somehow inviting.
i was invited to get off these pills and start new ones. i accepted.
on anti-depressants and marijuana

the city is cooler these days. i have a cold. my lips are dry\\

i'm listening to pittparti by poorgrrrl on repeat.

the truth shall set you free

i thought about it
talked about it
cried about it
laughed about it
smoked about it

until i finally did it

i am

a person/woman/29/f/miami

girl architect/architect girl

cold feet

blurriness
and success

more like distress

noise boys

world word salad

lord

WOD

The word of the day is:

in·ci·den·tal

ˌinsəˈden(t)l/

noun

plural noun: incidentals

1. an incidental detail, expense, event, etc.

   "an allowance to cover meals, taxis, and other incidentals"

 

ruminating

is the word of the day.

ru·mi·nate

ˈro͞oməˌnāt/

verb

1. 1.

   think deeply about something.

   "we sat ruminating on the nature of existence"

   synonyms:

   think about, contemplate, consider, meditate on, muse on, mull over, ponder on/over,deliberate about/on, chew on, puzzle over;  formalcogitate about "we ruminated on the nature of existence"

2. 2.

   (of a ruminant) chew the cud.

   synonyms:

   think about, contemplate, consider, meditate on, muse on, mull over, ponder on/over,deliberate about/on, chew on, puzzle over;  formalcogitate about "we ruminated on the nature of existence"

Dear

Dear Rivera,

Happy Birthday. You are 29 now.
You'll be 30 in a year.
You should get your shit together. Strive for financial security.
Don't be lazy. Take control of your life.
You are an artist and designer.
Where is your portfolio?
Create one.
With volumes. of zines.
Do it.
Go.
Now.

Sincerely,
Rivera

watching you watching me

i looked out through the bathroom window and down into the alley,

across the cobblestone path and under the Parisian moon

i watched the Asian woman prepare a meal

she seemed focused, engaged in the simple, repetitive act of kneading what looked like some kind of dough or something

i envied her.

i wished for that moment that we could trade lives

and i could exit my existence and enter hers

on some being-john-malkovich-type shit

yeah, i said it

you should've known better with
a
girl
like
me

hotshot
like me

i don't believe in time.

Notes from Underground

The idea of fun. 

Homo Ludens

Fun

crystal colors polarized 

boundless

i don’t believe in time. 

we r droids

we are like droids up in here.
when we are not on our phones we are on our laptops.

girl

you know you're lost

lost

in
the heat
of it all

Miami Miami Miami

lost

on the vespa

ridin down the boulevard

lost

in his arms

nuzzling and touching

to be honest witcha

I am not as well-read as I purport to be. I’ve only read one third of Jack Kerouac’s On the Road, yet I find myself bringing it up in conversation often. I mean, I don’t tell people I’ve read the book, but I am aware that they might assume I have when I say something like “There’s a Kerouac quote that’s very fitting for this” in my low-pitched, pseudo-intellectual voice.

Meaningless Nothings

I'm just going to play it by ear.
What does that even mean?
That's a great question.
The answer is
I don't know.
The answer is always
I don't know.

Always?

But you said change is the only constant
I'm confused

Girl, you'll be an architect soon.

Girl, you'll be an architect soon.

so long, frank lloyd wright

hello, artificial architects

hi, charles bukowski

greetings, isabel marant

howdy, sally mann

so long, frank lloyd wright

Folder Name: Rivera, D

you shoved our memories into a folder on your external hard drive. you are archiving me like some old hand-drawn map in the dingy, dusty basement of a museum that no one gives a shit about.

untitled

all that's left is
a house on mango street
remnants
some stubble and
emersonian glee

best friend

poster child

my achilles' heel

whistle-blower

a new man

Google: A Love Story

Jetblue

Office depot

Netflix

Amazon

Target

Hotmail

Aol

Nordstrom

Junkyard Orbit Necrophile Axe Tank Human Apocalyptic Nirvana

personal demiurge make a toast oral fixation

rite of passage a virtuous night tactile corruption

call the station send a request aural penetration

blind optimism rose-tinted noise visual refraction

See Daddy? Sinners have souls, too.

how very candid of you

you mean to tell me

you are a homotextual

 

no, a sapiosexual

but to me it's all the same

 

homotextuality

and same text marriage

black on black

white on white

 

yes

 

you are a daft punk

i want you to know

i mean that in the kindest of ways

BMP

mere coincidence

or divine wink

the latter

i'd like to think

sherry turkle

ashley montagu

jim jones

alan rath

the word trope

philology

jane fucking jacobs

and tulip fields

phenomenal indeed

there's a name for that,

you know?

baader meinhof

spell it for me

will you remember?

yes

B-A-A-D-E-R 

M-E-I-N-H-O-F

point of interest

i love you

i love you more

how do you know?

there's no such thing 

as a richter scale for love

which brings me to my next conclusion

love can't be quantified

therefore it is imaginary

two too many drinks

vomit city, here we come
speeding on the highway
in the jalopy

a blow to the face
then another
and another

we made it
bruises and broken dashboards
bloody knuckles

where's my shirt

All these people on the planet

working 9 to 5 just to stay alive
working 9 to 5 just to stay alive
working 9 to 5 just to stay alive
working 9 to 5 just to stay alive
working 9 to 5 just to stay alive
working 9 to 5 just to stay alive
working 9 to 5 just to stay alive
working 9 to 5 just to stay alive

Post-Modern Boy

I made a digital shrine

Just for you

I'm so Post-Modern

Just like you

We are one 

and the same

Two peas in a broken pod

Rodrigo Armando Francisco Eduardo

ends with the letter O

like the rest

the same, but not
Eduardo is actually quadrisyllabic

unlike the rest

A Story of Post-Modern Love

They met in LA
a couple of Mexican immigrants
rolling stones,
rolling with the punches
Jabs of Life
She was married,
with 4 children
He was married,
with 4 children
that didn't stop them
from falling
in love
lust
luck
fuck

They fled
together

Miami
was sunny and warm

and far
away from LA

with love and utmost sincerity

you are like a permanent ink stain in my memory. no matter what, i know you'll always exist there. when i look at the stain, i won't be annoyed. i'll smile to myself and i'll remember

your teeth

lovely hands

watching parks and rec

making love with the red light bulb on

walking with your hand wrapped reassuringly around mine

27

It happened around the time I turned twenty seven.
Actually, it was exactly two days shy of my twenty-seventh birthday
that the idea occurred to me.

It had been slowly making its way
to the forefront of my thoughts.

Two days before my twenty-seventh birthday
I decided I would be happy for the rest of my life.

All will be still and perfect

We'll get married

I'll wear a Mara Hoffman dress and a beautiful flower crown

He'll hold my hand and run his fingers through my hair

On our honeymoon
We'll get naked

And draw on each other's bodies

We'll make art together

We'll have great sex and go to Key West and cook together

It'll be the four of us in our cozy apartment

Us

And our two pugs
one black, one fawn

We'll be partners in our office

We'll call ourselves Artificial Architects

And we'll make beautiful buildings

The pugs will grow old

And so will we

But our love for each other will be undying

He won't abandon me

We'll be together until we die

All will be still and perfect