laughing cadavers.

laughing cadavers\\9.23.14

some people laugh in the faces of the dead, their demeanor feeble
a wretched dog in the grey of their days, numbered, one, two, three, four
how many more before their eyes shroud in the distant light?
their bones crumble and their teeth fall out, pieces and pieces of cadaver.

would you kill your soul to see them go? your soul was dead to begin with.

some time in the absence of the light the boots of men—brave! brave! brave!
like thunder clap against the empty universe, drowning inside the brainless curse.

if i had a penny for every time i fell down died, i’d be giggling too
too nervous to see it to the end, their graves marked by the devastating edge.

their emotions convulse over the empire, too many dead to see the ocean
colorless so be it.

colors must die when a good man drowns in war.




his knuckles are bruised. they cover varicose veins.
his bones wilt under the impact.

metal against grass, skin against concrete.

a gasp in the width of an uncaring crowd like
teethy foxes in place of the justice league.

revenge, except it never worked.

a jet in the air for the fairy winter solstice.

something pops as she suffers.

his watch might leave an imprint seared like from branding.

she closes her eyes and imagines red iron against red iron against him.

his fairytales were never false and it tore at her limbs,

creatures of satanic descent.

so she ran into the forest, they say, and the day was so hot

her atoms burst and she became the young willow tree by the river.

a thousand years and she’s still young. 

the classics club update

So basically I’m not reviewing books anymore because turns out I suck at them because I am overly optimistic and literally just rave about them even when they are not my favorite. Also, it’s not that fun. I’m still reading them, [just finished The Idiot by Fyodor Dostoevsky] and I’ll be crossing them out on my list if you want to see where I am. I am going to be writing more about writing and random things, but that is pretty much what I have been doing so far anyway. It’ll be like a time capsule of my thoughts and ideas and experiences that’ll be fun to look back on later.

writing is the universe.

Writing is the universe: it’s vast and complex and infinite and it sucks. How can mind-blowing things like nano-diamonds exist in the same dimension as my smelly socks? I cannot even fathom.
How can the slight difference in the structure of a molecule make the difference between an asthmatic medicine and the meth college-dropouts snort? I cannot even fathom.
I listen to Cobain and Grohl and Filter and Momsen and I’m happy and I cry. Why are emotions biologically explainable and yet still so so incomprehensible? I cannot even fathom. Sometimes I don’t want to.
This isn’t even about writing; this is about me because I am writing and I am the universe. Every single atom in the universe is the universe. I cannot—well, you know.
Here’s the paraphrased version of something someone said once: we learn that when our solar system was created, 99.99 percent of everything was sucked into the Sun. So everything else, the trees and you and me and spiders, are all the 00.01 percent that survived. And so we’re pretty freaking lucky.
I think I made a mistake. I said that everything in the universe is the universe, but actually, I think everything that cannot be touched, like our souls and our minds and our fears—that is the universe. Because those are the things that science can’t explain and Einstein can’t prove. And they are very scary because we cannot grasp them in our hands and call them mine. We cannot hunt them and frame them and showcase them in our houses. We cannot put price tags on them—we cannot even define them.
So why is this called ‘writing is the universe’? Because writing sets our souls and minds and fears free—and that makes writing so inconceivably powerful. And so yes, writing is the universe: it’s vast and complex and infinite and it does suck, but it is us.


there is a kingdom, deep deep within each creature, that holds the Great name of feardom. each scaly shadow that inhibits this land has one dream, one hollow goal in mind: to make you the queen.

do not let them.

no queen of fear-dumb
you need be
if feardom cease to be

aristotle and dante discover the secrets of the universe review/fangirling.

“One summer night I fell asleep, hoping the world would be different when I awoke. In the morning, when I opened my eyes, the world was the same.” 


I probably shouldn’t be writing a review for this book because it’s my all-time favorite, and all you’ll hear is ”fangirlfangirlfangirlfangirl,” but I’ll do it anyway.

Maybe I should start with why I love it so much. The thing is, it’s pretty hard to say for certain. Everybody has different favorite books, and all for differing reasons. [For the sake of everyone, I will refer to the book as AAD for the rest of the review.]


AAD is my favorite book because of several reason, one being the beautiful language that is used.

Some of the prettiest quotes:

Another secret of the universe: Sometimes pain was like a storm that came out of nowhere. The clearest summer could end in a downpour. Could end in lightning and thunder.

It was good to laugh. I wanted to laugh and laugh and laugh until I laughed myself into becoming someone else.” 

 “The summer sun was not meant for boys like me. Boys like me belonged to the rain.” 

 “And being alone made me want to talk to someone my own age. Someone who understood that using the “f” word wasn’t a measure of my lack of imagination. Sometimes using that word just made me feel free.

The Problem

The second reason I love it is because it taught me a lot about people and families and the way the world works with humans living inside it.



Aristotle is an angry teen with a brother in prison. Dante is a know-it-all who has an unusual way of looking at the world. When the two meet at the swimming pool, they seem to have nothing in common. But as the loners start spending time together, they discover that they share a special friendship—the kind that changes lives and lasts a lifetime. And it is through this friendship that Ari and Dante will learn the most important truths about themselves and the kind of people they want to be.


The story is told in the point of view of Aristotle, and as you saw from the quotes, I think he has a very pretty way of telling the story.  He has a very different personality and way of talking than Dante Quintana, the other main character of the novel, although he doesn’t narrate.


The third reason this book will forever belong to my heart is because I realized as I read the book that each of the characters loved in their own unique way. I haven’t read a lot of books compared to how many there are, but I still have read a fair share and no author was able to portray the different ways of loving someone before better than Benjamin Alire Saenz.

I think this one of the most important reasons to love this book. Also, I should probably mention how well the theme of coming-of-age, sexuality/lgbtq, heritage, and boyhood was woven into the story. The whole thing felt natural. A real life. Not to mention the cry-worthy, fangirl-worthy, and oh-my-god-it’s-three-in-the-morning-but-this-scene-is-so-enthralling-just-one-more-page-worthy parts of this book. Yeah, it’s definitely worthy.


And I know that no matter how much I gush, like I said before everyone has different favorites and this might not captivate you as much as it did me. So I don’t want to go on and raise the bar higher than heaven, even though I still believe this is the best book ever and no one can not like it [I mean I guess technically they could but whatever].


So in conclusion, give the book a chance. It deserves one.

[also, all pictures or gifs containing quotes is from the book.]

the catcher in the rye review.

The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger


Description: Holden Caulfield has been synonymous with “cynical adolescent.” Holden narrates the story of a couple of days in his sixteen-year-old life, just after he’s been expelled from prep school, in a slang that sounds edgy even today and keeps this novel on banned book lists.



I was supposed to be reading my spin list book, Cannery Row by John Steinbeck, but I was so excited about this book that I ended up reading this instead. I read it during final exam weeks so it took a week or two. (I only read in the mornings before the exams or after I finished them but couldn’t leave the room yet.)

Holden’s singular style of narrating his story kept it very interesting. He has some of the most interesting thoughts and ideas.

I admit that I didn’t get the ‘not wanting his childhood to end’ metaphors until after I finished the book (how was I so thick?) but even then, I realized how important that was. Some of my favorite characters was Holden’s little sister, Phoebe, Holden himself, and his dead brother, Allie. It made me want to write poetry with a green pen on my softball glove.

Although I’ll admit I didn’t like book as much as I thought [that’s what happens when I put my standards for a book way too high], I still thoroughly enjoyed it. There’s something very familiar and sentient and humane about Holden and the side characters.