February 2012
36 posts
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You know, sometimes it can be so hard. Woke up to body aches, the side effects of sorrow released. It took everything in me to get out of bed. Heavy inside, constant headache. Contracted for thousands of dollars to write a memoir. Hired as a photographer on a ranch in the Santa Susana Pass by the ol’ Manson ranch. Drank a Hotel California margarita at Los Torros with my new psychic boss....
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THE LAST TIME I SAW YOU
Sergio Alcalde, printed on a prescription bottle dated from 2008, corners peeling with age. He holds the bottle to the light, a myriad of blue and white pills rattling. “Be careful, Shea.” He puts $100 on the table. His fiend twitch coming on strong. “What’s in there?” “That’s not my name anymore. You need to leave.” His eyes well up with tears...
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Pull-out: Late nite sex, pills, & politics: You... →
pull-out:
You know what, I hope you know you were the only goddamned person who really made me step back and take a good look at myself, even though half the time I was stoned or drunk and unwilling to do it. The one fucking person who’s really inspired anything beyond this dull winter aridness in me. I…
pull-out asked: lOOOove. hey siren obrien. you know that rhymes right? youre definitely a siren all right, riding those waves and pulling down those bold sailors with your lipsticked mouth. mmmm.
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The last days of my spirit journey, when we rode the motorcycle up Pacific Coast Highway to Santa Barbara. How I clung to you as we roared by the waves and I gave the peace sign to an old couple with a Vietnam Veteran stickers on an old white Buick. It was cold and we drank coffee walking up State St. That hippie next to us at the motel. Eating junk food after we fucked on a neutral bed and cheap...
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HEARTBREAKER
The day after Valentine’s, June’s mother writes him a letter: “Darling, please do not practise auto-erotic asphyxiation. It is very dangerous. I know what it’s like to be a young person discovering the world, but I have found people who practise S&M lack something in their life.” His mother doesn’t know he visits massage parlours once a week for happy ...
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THE BONE COLLECTOR PT. II: THE END
It would only be a year after my father died that Crystal would cross my path again. In my wounded state I was deaf and dulled by my environment and pill swallowing habit. I couldn’t hear the sirens warning of an imminent tornado, I was blinded by the blur of flesh and bone falling down around me.
I was fifteen and trippin’ off two tabs of acid (my first and last time.) It was five...
What you are doing and have done before. Destruction comes easy. Are you happy? Sighing, shrinking, sinking. Death of a flower, sex, freedom. Bored, complicated, homesick. Loneliness in inches. Before this is done all the fish in the sea will wash upon the shore. Be careful what you wish for. Nothing is ever good enough.
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THE BONE COLLECTOR PT. I: THE BEGINNING
Crystal ruined my life before I was even born.
My father started the affair when he was seventeen, fresh out of a coma. He fell off of a wall and fractured his skull, it took a few years before he could walk, talk and taste again. I suppose that one accident changed everything. Maybe he died and came back to life, but he stopped giving a fuck. Some people come back from the dead to love, some...
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CRIMINAL WISDOM: VALIUM & VEGAS: HOW TO SLOW DOWN... →
criminalwisdom:
by Siren O’Brien
The itch to leave Los Angeles comes on strong and hard in a place I can’t quite reach, instantly restless amid the cement skyscrapers and plastic people. In a city of millions it’s easy to feel claustrophobic, but a part of being bored here is that nothing is ever open passed…
Criminal Wisdom exclusive. Previously unpublished on californoir.
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The past couple of days Billie Holiday’s come on and I noticed. I haven’t listened to her since 2008. The first time he threw me around she was in the backround. I was living in Eagle Rock for maybe 8 months or so, washing the dishes and he stumbled in, opening the frige to get a beer. I stared at him and asked him if he was drinking my beer. “Shut the fuck up”, he said. I blinked, my face...
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PISTOLS, BIBLES & SLEEPING PILLS
Lately the days and minutes blend together in different shades of daylight and dusk. Sometimes I sleep for fourteen hours, sometimes I don’t sleep for two days. I don’t particularly want or need anything, even food lacks a savouring quality, cigarettes seem stale, repetitive like a heartbeat. Love letters from Dubai, dirty messages from an old man, phone calls from across the states....
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Me and My Big Dreams: →
grownmanchild:
One of the tough lessons to learn in life is that growing up often means growing apart from the people you love. You realize that if you stay too close to some friends the weight of all your memories and feelings will do nothing but anchor you to a spot in the shadows. You will never see the sun….
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You are such an attention whore.
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Criminal Wisdom: TRUTH vs NOISE #1 →
criminalwisdom:
I remember the big rigs sitting in the dark with their engines running. I remember country and western music playing on the jukebox in bars where the faces never change and the loneliness one can find at the bottom of an empty pint glass. I remember the sky getting pink in the hills at dusk,…
January 2012
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SPOKEN WORD: BETWEEN THE LINES
I’ve written...
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OF STARDUSTS AND BROKEN HEARTS
The tragedy of small town friendships is obvious, we all know each others pain and secrets, but we can’t run from the only thing we have known our whole life, so we create separate lives from our friends and lovers.
As much as we try to hide from the truth you can see the strain of guilt and remorse. It haunts our waking moments as we grow older and continue to live in the fantasy we...
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At his feet, kissing the veins and tendons, hair licking his ankles like fire, pray for forgiveness from the ground up, seeing stars as air escapes me, black velvet silence, gasping for redemption, sins of my flesh.
“If a girl ever drives four hours alone in the dark wipe of 3am to meet you...”
– Tristan Silverman, This Is How It Will Happen (via grammatolatry)
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THE DAY I TRIED TO LIVE
Hand on the back of my head, the back of my throat is sore from sucking his cock, each thrust of his hips like a dull knife. The faint taste of metal in my mouth, spit sparkles like glitter under the low lights. Deaf as the music pulses in the backround, vibrations running from knees up to my spread thighs. White and athletic, hard as the stone in my chest. Breath matching the beat.
Endurance...
You know, I’ve had it. Done.
The whole point of my spirit journey was to find myself and I drove back to California with a new mantra “No More Bullshit” and since then I’ve been happier and there’s been a lot less drama in my personal life.
I’m sick of people who take the easy way out in fights, who never listen to a goddamn thing I have to say and feel the...
Anonymous asked: You exhaust my heart.
It’s my birthday, assholes.
Last days of twenty six, covered in glitter and cum. His hands on my body, our long hair mixing like oil and sunshine, hands running up from hips to my tits, all over all over. I couldn’t stop smiling even if I wanted to. Pale skin bruises so easy, my pussy blooming like some pink vulnerable flower. The days of thinking of others while he’s inside me is over. Crazy love. Take it one...