chinese plastic

the jukebox stops, and a silence comes over the aged and dinge filled room. Our eyes lock as we feel a familiar beat and like candy we jump to make the room that much sweeter. It's time to freak out. its time to show everyone what real dancin should look like.

make it mine

"i keep my life on a heavy rotation"

skipping through streets crowded with people... each with the smile of a thousand loves. trumpets emit from the windows above. children running through streets with unabashed joy that emits from the streets with every step they take. eat it up.

after an afternoon

"... something in the way you laugh, it makes me feel like a child. Aspects of life they confuse me, you and your thesis amuse me... after an afternoon with you..."

play... move through me... roll with a voice that takes me back to a place that only now lives in my smile. Watch as the notes live in my eyes, dancing as they see the pieces of our life. My face is warmed as I can almost feel your hands on my cheeks.

"face to palm, tear to tear, mouth to tongue, heart to ground, okay well maybe baby...i am in love."

Placing the burdon on love... pt. 2

I place the burdon on love because it just seems easier that way. To give way to making it better, than to give way to what exists now. What does exist now? The claim that the fairy tale is at your feet, you just need to take the time to bend over and pick it up. Not realizing that it carries the weight of the world. If we want it bad enough our strengths are immeasurable. But when we place the burdon on love it weakens us to the point of failure. We champion ourselves on being that of the unconditional, yet we fear all that is not what we want. I'm at a loss for words that explain this challenge. The idea of letting go is a parallel to the vices we choose to hold on to. Constantly reaching across the divide - but never going back to take the road we saw once before.

Placing the burdon on love

I woke up this morning and that title was the first thing that came to my mind. I need to let it fester... its a good writing prompt.

Previous posts...

I've had this strange random feeling lately that something will happen to myspace - so I decided to take any writing I had on there and place it here. I know - sounds rediculous, but some of it I dont have anywhere else. And its time again to be writing so I need the inspiration. Cheers.

Freewrite '02 "Jack"

My name is Jack And I am gay I like to wear green plaid shirts because green is my favorite color, and plaid tends to annoy people. I live in a small studio apartment in Orange County. My sink always clogs and the manager refuses to fix it. So here I am, gay Jack in my green plaid shirt. My world revolves around frozen pizzas and apple jacks, since that about all I eat. I work at the local bar in the evenings for cash. I have a few regulars that I’ve gotten to know pretty well. Like Will. He’s gay too. He’s married to a women named Lisa and has kept his secret for the 7 years he’s been with her. He likes to come in and talk to me about how horrible his life is and how that’s the night he’s going to go home and tell Lisa he’s gay. And ever week he comes back with the same story and the same excuses. Another regular is Carla. Carla is Single, and has this delusion that someday Mr. Right will walk through the bar door and sweep her off her feet. She’s a bit homely, but cute in her own way. She likes to tell me of her escapades with various men, that were only there to fill the void each week. But she swears she loves every on of them and they will always be in her heart. Then there’s Roger, the businessman. He comes slumping in everyday after work in his $500 suit asking for a bud light. Never minding who is sitting next to him, he’ll always proceed to tell them how successful he is and how his wife hates him. God, who could blame her. He makes $100,000 a year and won’t buy her a car and would rather sit and drink cheap beer in a shit hole like this than sip wine at home by the pool with his beautiful wife. Will he ever end the cycle? Will he go home one day with the bar whore just to prove to himself that women want him, then loose everything because he was too stupid to realize what he wanted was what he already had? Who’s next? We’re just breaking the surface of all the countless faces I see come through here everyday. The single mother, the out of work carpenter, the car salesman. Everyone has a story. Everyone is here for a reason. Why I have to sit and listen to all the bullshit ones is beyond me. Give me someone with real problems. Give me someone who is here to celebrate life. Give me one person that wants to talk to me to find out who I am. Cares about how I feel today. Asks me “Hows it goin bro?”, and actually stay long enough to hear the answer. Don’t fucking treat me like your bitch. You come to me to escape your problems. You come to me to give you the courage to be who you really are. And don’t blame me at the end of the night because you made an ass of yourself. Don’t blame me for not closing your tab earlier. You honestly think these women don’t see right through you? You’re the shit right? All you have to do is give them a look and they want you. You’re an idiot! Try for two seconds to be real. Try to forget the fact that you spent more on your stupid shoes than she did for milk and bread for her family last week. Try and forget that looks at you and sees nothing but a dick. You can’t, because that’s what you make your reality. Fucking people. And I don’t say that because I’m bitter. I say that because it’s sad. It’s sad that the world these days can almost be summed up in a bar. Once in a great while you meet one. Someone who appreciates the simple fact that I took the time to come to work today just so I could open their ice cold beer that they worked so hard for. Its these people that make me come back every day. It’s these people that make me realize that as much as I’d love to give the big bird to every dumb fuck that walks through that door, that this guy was looking forward to seeing me all day. Not because he doesn’t want to go home to his wife, or not because he still doesn’t have a job, or not because she’s hoping that Mr. Wonderful will walk through the door… Simply because of the fact that nothing tastes better than an ice cold beer that someone cracked open just for you. Life is good. Green plaid shirts are good. Apple Jacks are good. Quit your fucking complaining and enjoy your beer. Take the time to say hi to the person next to you. They might be worse off than you. Tip your bartenders because they remember your name. Pick the songs YOU like on the jukebox, not what you think the crowd would like. You never know who else’s favorite song it might be. Buy someone a drink just because. Not because it might get you in their pants. Say thank you and mean it. And if your ever in a bar with your friends, tell them your glad they are there. If you don’t you’ll be the same shmucks that I’ve been talking about, for the rest of our beer drinking lives.

Erin S. Sartain 2002

Untitled '05

Feeling the weight of your breath on my chest

I gasp in search of another ounce of life.

Why do you rob me of my pleasure

Why do you rape me of my pain

Why must you swallow all my passion

And always leave me in the rain

I take back what I said

I know it was wrong

Fuck your stupid ass dreams

And screw all those dumb ass songs

Claw your way out of that hole

And wreak havoc on the world

Simmer down with the devil

And watch your destiny unfurl

Give me back what has always been mine

Let go of that shit you lock deep down inside

Ride your way to somewhere

Anywhere but here

Suffocate yourself with greatness

And allow me to steer



Blood will boil

Night will fall

Change will vanish

And rekindle us all

Fly with the big boys and dance in the sun

Play in my reality

And make me the one

Bark up my tree

Lie in my bed

Fell the wet inside me

And drink what heaven said

Suck from my pride box

Let it fill your mind

Because it’s all we’ve lived for

And what makes this world so blind



Copyright Erin S. Sartain 2005

Free write '05

The freedom of knowing whatever flows through my pen is mine. Its in my space. This space I’ve craved for so long now. I allow my heart to speak freely for the first time. Exploring all those words I’ve locked away. God I can’t wait to share all the life, all the nonsense, all the best of what my life has become, and all that each moment ahead has to offer. I’m ready for greatness. I’m ready to explore who I’ve always wanted to be. Dance around this world with unabashed joy and love and exuberance. I want to be known, for my best and worst qualities, and be cherished for every ounce of it.. Most importantly… I want to know that I made a difference. Even if small – in everyones life that I come in contact with. Never give up on my differences. My differences are som of the things I love the most about me. Keep ‘em guessing. Wear ugly pants. Rock the blue chick shoes. Rock the great hair. Open up to love.

Perfect spot

Truth is what swims in my soul

It’s the purity it bares

Of all the years of my life

All the sweetness in its hands

Oh love, I ask

To breathe my sea

And feel the shade

That cools under my tree

Let me know

Who we can be

I’ve never doubted

One single moment

In letting my love

Set free



Chasing all I’ve ever wanted

With a dragon on my back

Holding on with hope of steel

And living off the track

The worth

The feel

The undaunting fate

Driving

Crying

For the only sake

Each breath I take

I give half to you

And hope the aura

With all its power give life to your

Beating heart

In mind to see

Countless moons

I grow further each day

The sun to rise

And bring your face

As perfect

And like faries

Can’t fathom that it is real

The smell

The sweet sweet smell

Of your perfect spot

Reminds me

Inspires me

Drives me

To the flavor that

Exists as

The eternal apple.


ES '05

Welcome Home

6/17/05



She finally made it

She’s finally free

To be that person

They all refused to see

With no more shadows

And no more pain

And no more wondering

Should she have to be the same



Welcome Home

It’s been awhile

The doors unlocked

As it’s always been

Your hearts on the table

Having a grand old feast

Of all the things

You’ve craved to be



The chairs are filled

Of the memories past

The platters served

By her futures cast

Never again to hunger for pride

For the gourmet life

Is at her side



Welcome home

It’s been too long

The doors unlocked

The key, long gone

Your hearts on the table

Having a grand old feast

Of all the things

You’d hoped you’d be



No grace to be said

For she prayed everyday

That the ache in her soul

Would soon find its way

Out of the hunger and turn into pride

And forever feeling content

With the someone by her side



The fence too high

The dog was out

Her broken heart

Had every doubt

She saw that light

It never went away

She can’t be afraid

To go home someday

All these things

She’ll never have to hear

It’s all so vivid

And finally so clear



Welcome home

And never to leave

No doors ever close

No love unreceived

There’s always more chairs

In this feast to come

For you’ll always be

Welcome home



copyright erin s. sartain 2005

At What Point

At what point do the lines of insanity and the lines of obsurdity cross

At what point does the facade of ones troubles become the clairty you crave

At what point does the world stop looking at your shadows and start basking in your glow

At what point does your heart understand the truth your soul seeks

At what point does your skin become immune to the touch of demons

At what point does the love consume your weaknesses

At what point do your eyes need no light to see life right in front of you

At what point does the tide carry you to a lucid stillness

At what point do your dreams break your silences

At what point does the fight become the success


Erin Sartain 4/3/06

Rapfizzy

RAPFIZZY (1/31/06)



Scooby drippin funk trip

Diddle trippin fork drip

Queeple bonkin junk mat

Toopie burpin donkey flat

Soapy coochie unwind

Purple vinyl couch fight

Sharpie noodle fat dock

Clammy knicker lick shock

Show me forty apple jacks

Blow the life to smick smack

Skoodle for the tip tang

Whip a little more bing bang

Donk the virtual boochie

To hear the stagecoach coochie

Somboodle said its fancy

Than smiled right through his pantsy

Check this chipper cheesehole

Its father was a shtick mole

Skippy shoop de tree top

Fix my ass to lollypop

Flaky Chinese spider hose

Porn de luca sex clothes

Nail something shut today

Then let the doowops out to play

Simple dipple panty raid

Licking sunbeams, postage paid

Shake this Schmidt

From its easy hits

Beat bada fox fort

Chumba bottle toe port

Play a Turkish bop song

Dance for moses, all night long

Super plastic dime sack

Turning for the smack back

Weezle freezie corner pit

Chop some soozie for the split

Tweeter nap inside my brain

Ship the nizzle, kill the pain

Abba shabba bean for two

No more shugy for me or you

Lippy trippy one fair word

Holding chances never heard

Shingle dingle 1 2 4

Tripping turkeys above the floor

She likes deck paste

In her match case

Chews on rawhide

On all car rides

Soda zipple quadrascoop

Nighttime foaming monkey poop

Saddle my traces

Ride through my places

Cheat vengeance blindly

Forget the day so timely

Order from a lady

Outside the drunken raby

Fizzle funky sport dot

Trip on lucys sweet spot

Shtick the opal tied back

Play my doozie boob rack

Turkey moist with spit rind

Slathered with a dope mind

Song so smoothie

Slap that bootie

And ride that porkchop three times.



© 2006 Erin S. Sartain

One of our songs

The way it carries me though

On the roughest of days

Calms my corrugated fears

And exploits my tainted ways

It bashes weary tears

And then floods you with guilt

Tears the hinges off your soul

And lets all of loves petals wilt

At just the right moment

It will turn you around

Fill your eyes with love

Then shove you to the ground

How dare you, who are you

To say all my words

All the things I live to know

All the feelings that never want to emerge

I give this to you

No, I give this to you

No you gave this to me

Because it says it all

I'll live by this and you live by that

Rest my heart on a tune

Or a word in a note

See the place that we went

When that song was wrote

Nothing ever changes

And nothing ever will

the song will always be ours

but the words sustain our heart

and another voice

will always come along

and grace us with another

one of our songs.


ES - 10/06

Things I have a tendency to do...

I tend to wear crazy pants... just because I can.
I tend to make up silly songs and speak in voices... just because I'm good at it.
I tend to follow the rules... and I say its because I'm a mother.
I tend to eat things I shouldn't, really fast... so I don't have to share.
I tend to sleep very still and in a small space... to not to wake the beast.
I tend to buy or pour a cup of coffee... and then not drink it.
I tend to use a lot of post-it notes... so random information sticks with me.
I tend to clap in the car... because it makes me feel good.
I tend to listen to one cd incessantly... right now it's Jason Mraz.
I tend to enjoy eating microwave popcorn at night... because its my favorite snack.
I tend to zone out a lot... and I think its because I'm taking it all in.
I tend to forget peoples names... but I never ever forget a face.
I tend to procrastinate little easy things... and I know its dumb.
I tend to chew and pick at my fingernails... and I hate it more than anything.
I tend to laugh at childish silly things... because laughter never hurts.
I tend to keep the most random of things... to symbolize a happy memory of my past.
I tend to thank my lucky stars... for the beautiful woman in my life.
I tend to sneeze... more than 7 times in a row.
I tend to clear my throat... and sound like a machine gun.
I tend to hug my kids... every chance I get.
I tend to love... and love big.

Thanks Olbermann...

Thoughts for a Monday

I'd like to use my mobile shout out please... (gosh I love me some Cash Cab).

There's nothing better than coming home to a clean house. Well... except coming home to a clean house and home made enchiladas cooking, beautiful fresh flowers on the table, fuzzies excited we're home, and getting out of work clothes to put on comfies...that makes for a pretty good darn Monday.

Why is it that cats see the need to sit ON whatever it is you are doing? Reading a book, writing, or like now, on the computer, and where does Madeline come and sit... between my body and the computer, between my arms, her feet on the edge of the keyboard. Like she belongs there. Is she reading what I'm writing about her? Animals are so insightful. I think it is why I often give the animals voices and speak what it looks like they want to say. Its a riot. Some days I swear we could have our own tv show...

I guess that's all the thoughts I have on today... need food. Time to check the mexican delight that is cooking in my oven... cheers.

The Brilliance of Boys

Its such a wonder to me to watch my son. I remember growing up I used to watch my brother do things... like make noises when he played with cars, immitate things... and I thought it was lame. Now, I watch my own son, do these same things... see the world from his 9 year old eyes... and it amazes me. Hearing him tell me about the scene coming up in the move we're watching, not just with words, but with noises, actions, expressions. He doesn't just watch a movie for the second time from his seat - he knows the movie - he lived it already... he experiences it. He can barely stay in one place.

...why is it that boys could always make those noises... those crash noises... girls can never make those. Hold on... "you just have to watch this part"...

I almost think I need to let him see these movies first - and them watch them with him after he's seen it. My son is brilliant... and I marvel every single day that he is a product of me. How lucky am I...

First morning thought

I woke up this morning and as I laid there trying to get "ungroggy"... this came to my head.

Who is that hiding in that hollow tree
behind the shadows and below the breeze.

I've come to realize that this is how my brain works. I tend to think my thoughts in a very lyrical, poetic fashion. So I will try and make it a point to get some of these down, as I've been taught for many years... but neglect to follow through on.

Little silly notes rise the sun to my day
and tear down all the challenges that stand in my way.

This... this is that pattern I've been telling my voice teacher about. It's why I have to let them spill out - so hopefully I can learn to step outside of my box, outside of my little world where the words flow like moonlight.

Inspired by Jamie...

for reminding me how much I love writing and that it doesn't make sense that I don't do this. So here shall all the random, and some not so random thoughts, be allowed to escape my brain.

Cheers!