nancy

dear friends,

Thu, 31 Jul 2008 20:50:55 GMT

hello,
i think i'm going to move back to my old journal, hunnycake, combining my personal journal (pleaselove) and this journal into one. these past few months have been rather rough on me emotionally and i have a childish hope that reverting back to my happy days will make it all better. i'm really sorry if it's a hassle or inconvenience to anyone. please let me know if you'd like to still be friends by leaving a message or just adding me! i'd really love it ♥ thank you.

hunnycake hunnycake hunnycake hunnycake hunnycake hunnycake hunnycake hunnycake hunnycake hunnycake hunnycake hunnycake hunnycake hunnycake hunnycake hunnycake

dream factory

Thu, 03 Jul 2008 02:08:57 GMT

entering the garden, walking through the garden, and happily ever after

i had a dream that i had my own Tinkerbell, but her name was Winnie and she slept in my knitted sweater pockets all day long until it was dark, when she would soar towards the sky and light it like a little star. the skies are full of fairies at night.
during the day, Winnie somehow let me hear the animals sing, and it sounded like something i had written in April:
if crabs could sing, they would glide in the waters of the deep blue sea and use their claws to tap on sea shells and clams, singing in bubbles "kiss the girl" and "under the sea." if deers could sing, they'd nuzzle their noses with each other and music would play - "love is a song" "first sign of spring" "little april shower." if we could decipher the chirping of the crickets, they would be singing "when you wish upon a star." and if the creaking of our toys could be understood, they would sing "you've got a friend in me."

dovely,

Wed, 18 Jun 2008 04:51:26 GMT

I. The Sea to the Moon
my name is Nancy. I had a turtle named Emrys after the magical Merlin. I have a cheesy moon and his name is edmund because I said so. He whispers jokes but laughs loudly at night and I love it.
everytime.

II. The Moon to the Sea
my name is edmund & I had 50 girls chase me but the only one who didn't was nancy because I kept chasing her and I will as long as she labes me. everyday. Good night because it's bedtime

Fri, 06 Jun 2008 05:33:42 GMT

(this flower reminds me of warm and fluffy popcorn)

i don't have much to say,
but i hope you're all well :)

i know why the caged bird sings

Sun, 11 May 2008 00:33:01 GMT

there's an aged grandfather with creases all around his eyes,
like little streams and channels converging for his tears
or like constellation lines connecting speckled moles scattered across his face
i always see him crossing the street with his granddaughter, hand in hand,
with his free hand waving in the air
as if to ward away possible harms from his love
or to ask the world please please please don't ever let her cry rivers like mine

lately -- so tired & so trapped,
all i want to do is sleep and sleep
and wake up with glowy yellows seeping through my curtains
let my hair down
climb out my window
ride a bicycle with a basket of flowers and a jingly bell
barefooted
to fantasia!

a theory of love

Sun, 27 Apr 2008 03:12:04 GMT

when she was younger,
she swallowed a prickly green caterpillar
(because children are magically curious and naïve),
who grew inside her tiny belly
instar after instar, slowly like floating balloons

when she was a little older,
it spun a cozy home of silk
smooth, of pastel corals and lavender colors, opaque
there the cocoon slept

once upon a time she met a boy
a pupal no more --
she felt the rhythms of butterfly wings inside her stomach
palms sweaty, cheeks a-flush

the boy, whose cocoon hatched at that precise moment,
felt the rhythms of butterfly wings inside his stomach
palms sweaty, cheeks a-flush

in sync, in unison
matching flutterbies
that is how you know

my fair lady; the bird and the bee
cocoon; björk

Tue, 19 Feb 2008 00:07:16 GMT

dream sweet nightingale

lady with the lamp,
let your eyelashes bat away nightmares
as your little mouth gapes
so so slightly
and tiny sleep bubbles escape
and pop into millions of sparkling stories
for others to dream nightly

Sun, 10 Feb 2008 19:40:35 GMT

1. the wonderer
lives with curiosity and delicate sensibilities, amused and amazed by imaginations, starry eyed in a kingdom far far away
a daydreamer of compelling stories

2. the wanderer
lives an exciting nomadic lifestyle, discovering and adventuring, venturing into new worlds & beyond boundaries
artful, soulful, a dream come true

david tied a bundle of shiny plastic grapes onto a tree,
"i just grew a grape vine"

i spent the afternoon sitting on their front porch,
in a hammock softly floating side to side in the sun.
time felt like it slowed

everything was blurry and the light just glowed

i know a wandering wonder, a wondering wanderer (he fits both titles) and i truly truly believe that if you read one of his stories, your entire day will just brighten up. soulcolor. he deserves so much more attention for his talent & ability to imagine, but not too much because then everything will be under appreciated, you know? :)

^{my favorites: the magical darling, reflection zero}

have a lovely day xx

Thu, 24 Jan 2008 06:54:13 GMT

this is my unfinished flower child;

curled within the folds of her blankets,
her eyes fluttered against the morning shine
petal soft porcelain complexion
peony-coral cheeks, chrysanthemum-starred eyes

she walks in beauty
and comes in colors

tell me a secret, of mystery of magic of heroes and little creeks
we can write tales and myths just like the ancient Greeks

Sat, 29 Dec 2007 01:49:36 GMT

overcast days like these veil the skies with dreary storm clouds
but the resulting cold creates illusions like magic:
my blankets, warmer
(wondrous night dreams and day dreams),
my toast with boysenberry jam, toastier
(crunchy crumbs in between my lips and on my shirt collar),
my cheeks, flushed
and sometimes the veil can be spectacular as well
a soft velvet veil, a delicate lacy veil, a smooth silk veil

even so,
they're just illusions
and i am in need of salt water & healing.

(he danced at the speed of light with his concertina)

i hope your holidays were grand
& i hope your new year will be even grander!

Wed, 19 Dec 2007 05:42:22 GMT

(the graceful bending of stems, the melodic nuances of blossoms)

lately,
tea and coffee in the mornings with my mother
stirring in cream and honey with pretty flower engraved spoons
rain rain rain pouring
brother tucking my blanket snugly beneath my chin
because he knows i hate it

thing that would bloom if love grew on trees
01 sweet hearts (skipping beats)
02 honey kisses
03 panda hugs
04 endless thoughts
05 stars in eyelashes
06 grandmothers pinching cheeks
07 holding hands (swinging)

i started a list this morning in bed while listening to pitters and patters marching on the rooftop
but i can't bring myself to finish it
help me?

Tue, 27 Nov 2007 23:35:51 GMT

good-bye november,
you've been kind
with brown orange yellow leaves
and cool breezes in the eve
and fingers weaved

hello december,
with foot-printed snowy fields
with light curls of hair around my finger, twined
with muffled voices of the air whispering canvases on our windshields
with gasps of warm breaths lingering on fragile skin to remind
that your lover isn't too far behind

i'm ready for new adventures :)

Sun, 11 Nov 2007 07:27:05 GMT

my thursday evening:
i told him i was frightened of the flickering yellow lights and the narrow hallways and the low ceilings and the acrid hospital stench,
that chattering teeth and cold ears and skin-tight doctor's rubber gloves made me anxious

he clutched my pinky with his pink baby hand,
"don't worry don't worry"

when it was time for me to leave,
he tugged the ends of the doctor's corduroy slacks,
"daddy, tell her her bones are made of glass
and if she falls she will crack and shatter
like when you drop a mirror
and get years and years of bad luck
like when you drop a flower vase
and get in big big trouble
unless she stays here forever"

today,
i made mini fairy cakes and visited The Lost Boy with a copy of Finding Neverland

he slipped a toy ring onto my ring finger and smiled, "now you can never leave!"

our favorite parts:

"if you rewind, it looks like they're becoming real life!"

the children arrive

Sun, 04 Nov 2007 19:11:30 GMT

In the dark of night (waiting for day), beside a pine tree (waiting for the winged seeds to sprout), beneath the dim light post (waiting for a wintry field and a faun to appear), the wind’s whisper turning into a furious roar (waiting for him carry someone to me)

“Hello, miss.”
I turned to see a lady of porcelain, coral cheeked with pale lips. Her purple-flowered trousers and large gray overcoat added to her inexplicable air of oddity. “Waiting?”
I shook my head lying, “I don’t know why I’m here.”
“Sorry, my English isn’t well (Sorry, I don’t understand lies).”

So commenced an hour long game of charades.
Soundless words spilled from our finger tips as our elbows were the “ands” “buts” “yets” and “fors” connecting them together. Frantic motioning and waving acted as verbs, while eloquent sentences formed from our laughter.

The wind calmed from his rage. As he breathed a sigh, the leaves twirled and danced a little flurry.
The lady of porcelain pointed: They’re singing.

stifling,

^{the average person spends 5 years of their lifetime waiting}

Wed, 24 Oct 2007 07:20:44 GMT

"nancy, today i lost my left hand"
the boy slowly lifted his pale hand to meet his gray-blue eyes, "and i found it"

"j, today i lost my entire existence"
he tugged on a strand of his curly blond hair and looked at my tiny ears, sniffling nose, cherry mouth,
goosebumped shoulders, bruised knees, happy feet.

"i found you"

(kissing pandas and chocolate hearts)

it's odd,
the phenomenal feeling when you stare into the mirror
and mutter your name
and it all sounds
and looks
so foreign

Sun, 21 Oct 2007 04:35:07 GMT

when i was younger,
my mum would always try to teach me how to do my own laundry,
but instead of hanging my cardigans and dresses to dry in the breeze,
i would sit myself inside the tall little pink laundry basket.

as i grew older,
i would often get stuck in a sitting position inside the aforementioned baskets
and my brother would grab hold of my outstretched arms and lift me out.

it's a miracle that i learned how to wash my own clothing
somewhere along the way.

i'm nancy :)