alyssa-cruz's New Writeupshttp://everything2.com/?node=New%20Writeups%20Atom%20Feed&foruser=alyssa-cruz2011-11-20T07:50:48ZWe had no bait but our tongues (fiction)http://everything2.com/user/alyssa-cruz/writeups/We+had+no+bait+but+our+tonguesalyssa-cruzhttp://everything2.com/user/alyssa-cruz2011-11-20T07:50:48Z2011-11-20T07:50:48ZWhen I was chewing <a href="/title/gum+arabic">gum arabic</a> and you were putting <a href="/title/fish+hooks">fish hooks</a> through your fingers, you asked me:
<br>“<tt>How art we to know what love is about?</tt>”
<br>and I said, “<tt>What <a href="/title/love+is+about">love is about</a>? Love is about movies.</tt>”
<br>and you said, “<tt>No, movies are about love.</tt>”
<p>
<br>To that I nodded sagely, and for that I stopped chewing.
<p>
<br>After a time I noticed I was crying, and you asked, “<tt>Why are you crying?</tt>”
<br>and I said, “<tt>The violins... during the credits, when the orchestra is surging and the <a href="/title/gaffer">gaffer</a> disappears with the <a href="/title/best+boy">best boy</a> and <a href="/title/lighting+technician">lighting technician</a>, and you can't get your shit together. Your nose is running and people are trying to keep from tripping on your legs, but then they get stuck on some spilled <a href="/title/Coke">Coke</a> and they trip anyway. You mumble an apology, but it really isn't your fault. You're allowed to sit through the credits and sob. So you do, until the employees start sweeping, and you stumble into the brightly lit lobby - all without looking anyone<!-- close unclosed tag --></tt><!-- close unclosed tag --></p><!-- close unclosed tag --></p>…The sordid matter of jungle gyms (fiction)http://everything2.com/user/alyssa-cruz/writeups/The+sordid+matter+of+jungle+gymsalyssa-cruzhttp://everything2.com/user/alyssa-cruz2010-09-13T20:51:47Z2010-09-13T20:51:47Z<p>There isn't a <a href="/title/seesaw">seesaw</a> in the <a href="/title/world">world</a> I wouldn't lick to get you out of your head. Yesterday we dropped $14 on <a href="/title/root+beer">root beer</a> and you could only stare listlessly at the ingredients. You'll <a href="/title/find+nothing">find nothing</a> there I assure you. I picked up your fingers and traced them and again you stared. I put a couple of them in my mouth and for a second your expression changed. Honestly, there isn't a <a href="/title/swing+set">swing set</a> in the whole <a href="/title/continental+U.S.">continental U.S.</a> that I wouldn't grope.
<br>
<p>Drinking the root beer, we made our way past the ocean, but the walk wasn't conveyed well in that sentence. It lasted years. The <a href="/title/ocean">ocean</a>, it should seem, is very long, and I've heard things about its depth. There wasn't enough root beer. By the 91st mile you started to <a href="/title/lose+your+inhibitions">lose your inhibitions</a>, and I smiled in a way that was unintentionally maniacal. I never know what my face is doing. But you began to speak very quickly and I wasn't too worried that you cared. You told me about this little kid in your neighborhood when you were seven years old. His<!-- close unclosed tag --></p><!-- close unclosed tag --></p>…librarians; mapmakers - fear more than papercuts (idea)http://everything2.com/user/alyssa-cruz/writeups/librarians%253B+mapmakers+-+fear+more+than+papercutsalyssa-cruzhttp://everything2.com/user/alyssa-cruz2009-09-09T18:19:17Z2009-09-09T18:19:17Zclawing through bookshelves, you know?
<br>like sleepy <a href="/title/drug+addled">drug addled</a>
<br>or nauseous suicide
<br>(the intellectual not the cry for help)
<br>and these <a href="/title/postmodern">postmodern</a>s have indexes spouting not-near-<a href="/title/enlightenment">enlightenment</a> but for-its-own-sake and if the two are synonymous
<br>well then maybe <a href="/title/cry+for+help">cry for help</a>
<br>and scratching, my fingernails grow ragged until bleeding cuticles and a recessed <a href="/title/thumb+sucker">thumb sucker</a>
<br>- to only have <a href="/title/nostalgia">nostalgia</a> for these tiny little appendages in my <a href="/title/maw">maw</a>!-
<br>but only a taste of blood&metallyblood
<br>the irony to think of <a href="/title/robot">robot</a>s when "<a href="/title/I+am+man">I am man</a>", and "I am first"
<br>enough!
<br>remaining fingertips trace a leathery binding of graphing paper
<br>full of love letters to the world or someone I mistook for it
<br>mistook? godmotherfuckingdamn
<br>pages of <a href="/title/17+year+old">17 year old</a> without magnetic objectivity
<br>if a compass of
<p align="center">^<a href="/title/North">Naivete</a></p>
<p align="center">< <a href="/title/West">Wlatsome</a> <a href="/title/East">Eros</a> ></p>
<p align="center">v<a href="/title/South">Scorn</a></p>…Dali knew elephants and monsters that Bukowski never drank away (fiction)http://everything2.com/user/alyssa-cruz/writeups/Dali+knew+elephants+and+monsters+that+Bukowski+never+drank+awayalyssa-cruzhttp://everything2.com/user/alyssa-cruz2009-07-22T02:12:57Z2009-07-22T02:12:57Z<p>I was staring at <a href="/title/Dali%25E2%2580%2599s+elephants">Dali’s elephants</a> like plebeian egomania. One hundred thousand footsteps had brought me there. No one had called my phone in all that time or perhaps the battery was dead. There were <a href="/title/phantom+vibrations">phantom vibrations</a> on my thigh. No one was calling - not that I could hear.
I began talking: to the elephants. I hope no one was looking. I was crazy. <a href="/title/I+am+crazy">I am crazy</a>.
<p>But they were very high up. I couldn’t hear very well, it sounded like muttering, gurgling. Unkempt I strode closer, but, like I said, they were very high up. I think they told me what I was searching for and perhaps they were <a href="/title/cell+phone+towers">cell phone towers</a>. Jesus fucking Christ almighty, I’m becoming Bukowski. I don’t even know if I like <a href="/title/Bukowski">Bukowski</a>. I keep reading and who knows? I hate Bukowski.
<p>I walked beneath their legs and looked up and couldn’t see the <a href="/title/wavelength">wavelength</a>s. They have thousands of steps more, but I don’t know the length of my own strides.
Upon entering my home I saw a bed and fell asleep. Perhaps it was not my bed. They all feel<!-- close unclosed tag --></p><!-- close unclosed tag --></p><!-- close unclosed tag --></p>…bounded in a nutshell (poetry)http://everything2.com/user/alyssa-cruz/writeups/bounded+in+a+nutshellalyssa-cruzhttp://everything2.com/user/alyssa-cruz2009-05-12T06:06:47Z2009-05-12T06:06:47Z<p><tt><a href="/title/to+know+a+hawk+from+a+handsaw">wk
<br>ndsaw</a>
<br>toward a town in northern CA
<br>a <a href="/title/mr.+goodbar">mr. goodbar</a> offering, anchoring
<br>you smile so weakly dry lips
<br><a href="/title/in+los+angeles%252C+something+is+always+burning">los angeles is burning</a>
<br>lovers
<br>:full of gasoline, listerine
<br>the towns are slipping freeway signs
<br>the clowns/ the <a href="/title/fools">fools</a> inhale perhaps not so deeply
<br>yet they laugh <a href="/title/laughing+gas">nitrous oxide</a> styled
<br>but past <a href="/title/land+of+enchantment">new mexico</a> we paradise
<br>slipstream
<br>your neurons in <a href="/title/mile+marker">mile marker</a>s
<br>highways, byways
<br>waiting hours – days for a <a href="/title/the+first+car+crash">five car pile up</a>
<br>one
<br>two
<br>vultures, crickets, & fuck the <a href="/title/jackalope">jackalope</a>
<br>I've never seen <a href="/title/we+can%2527t+stop+here.+this+is+bat+country%2521">bats</a> but your eyes flutter
<br>like <a href="/title/REM">REM</a>
<br>oh sleep, muscles twitching
<br>I bow to your royalty
<br><a href="/title/naked+and+reciting+Shakespeare">were it not that I have bad dreams</a><!-- close inline tag into block --></tt></p><tt><!-- reopen inline tag after block --><!-- close unclosed tag --></tt>Your mushroom clouds (and your ketchup stained reply) (idea)http://everything2.com/user/alyssa-cruz/writeups/Your+mushroom+clouds+%2528and+your+ketchup+stained+reply%2529alyssa-cruzhttp://everything2.com/user/alyssa-cruz2009-04-03T18:28:51Z2009-04-03T18:28:51Z<p align="center">We: slap happy post trauma
<br>You: <a href="/title/Egg+donors">Egg donors</a>. Makers of toast.</p>
<p>There was a <a href="/title/summer+fling">summer fling</a> within the margins. I kissed you for the first time twice. Loving alcoholism for a person. Lines of trash. <a href="/title/Coke+Zero">Coke Zero</a>. The stars remain in place. Forsooth, the motherfucker said. We cocked our ears, lively stringing instruments that <a href="/title/jazz+men">jazz men</a> created from pure gold. Your eyes endeared me to nothing but my thoughts and oh I drink just as fast as I swim. I make no moves. I've ruled them out past <a href="/title/mile+markers">mile markers</a> of this much east. The winds change. Now the stars collide. Hold me if you want to, and <a href="/title/don%2527t+techno+for+an+answer">don't techno for an answer</a>. Fuck.
<p>The exchange of <a href="/title/lobotomy">lobotomy</a> and crumpled bills: change swirling in your drink. I <a href="/title/pitch+pennies">pitch pennies</a> for mannerisms and your giddy obsequiousness. Never call.
<p align="center">Fine - call.</p>
<p>Call every night and tell me your black&white dreams of tooth brushing, breakfast eating, left sock, right sock. Start with the shampoo, <a href="/title/your+symbolism">your symbolism</a>, and I will<!-- close unclosed tag --></p><!-- close unclosed tag --></p><!-- close unclosed tag --></p>…