Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in nemo's LiveJournal:

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Saturday, June 19th, 2004
7:37 pm	The rain has stopped the streets will be dry soon and then I will play tennis carefully avoiding the wet spots on the court, running after balls rolling headlong, heedlessly into puddles-silly suicidal tendencies growing up our punishment was sorrow and the fear of abandonment I used to pretend I was an orphan, which somehow made everything okay because those people out there with the cold eyes weren't my real parents my real parents always came back in the mornings with the sunshine. (4 Comments |Comment on this)
Monday, June 7th, 2004
5:30 pm	one more... I have become afraid of saying I love you too often wearing the words out until they crumble like sand the gritty taste of salt mixed into tangled hair at the beach not a bad taste, I think but uncharacteristic and you brush your teeth and wash your hair, now sweet smelling- minty freshness is the norm. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
5:28 pm	(Do) you know what scares me? Seeing blood-my own streaking red where no blood should be (I'm generally self-contained; where's the leak?) red on white, red on grey, shining like lipstick stains from the rouge I never wear... to be dead inside somewhere I didn't even know I existed. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Wednesday, March 3rd, 2004
10:54 pm	crisis over whelmed buffer tears regain equilibrum and (perhaps) control (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Wednesday, February 11th, 2004
9:32 pm	it's been so long! I look-straight on-at my foe he looks, a hard glint in his eye, armored with an inpenetrably shiny crust I, too, am armed my weapons sharp, a trident and a spear (one in each hand) in the event of gore I have a napkin to catch the mess- but this monstrous sandwich will not be beat I cast my fear behind me like a shadow unhooked from my feet and then I grew so the shadow does not fit me anymore ave you ever tried to climb a mountain of glass? Not only is it slippery, and slick but covered, in places with tiny shards of brokenness that cut into your hands and knees- rusty red prints on a mirror that reflects back your darkest moment knashing of teeth, and scars from the pothole two yards down, four months and three days before. the sun shines in your eyes, so you can't see up, to the summit (if, indeed, there is a summit) I have a box of band-aids in my back pocket, and extra socks, plus gum with long-lasting flavor for the journey keep climbing. (Comment on this)
9:26 pm	it's been so long! I look-straight on-at my foe he looks, a hard glint in his eye, armored in an inpenetrable, shiny crust I too, am armed my weapons are sharp, a trident and a spear one in each hand in the event of gore I have a napkin to catch the mess- but this monstrous sandwich will not be beat I cast my fear behind me like a shadow unhooked from my feet and then I grew so the shadow does not fit me anymore ave you ever tried to climb a mountain of glass? Not only is it slippery, and slick but covered, in places with tiny shards of brokenness that cut into your hands and knees- rusty red prints on a mirror that reflects back your darkest moment knashing of teeth, and scars from the pothole two yards down, four months and three days before. the sun shines in your eyes, so you can't see up, to the summit (if, indeed, there is a summit) I have a box of band-aids in my back pocket, and extra socks, plus gum with long-lasting flavor for the journey keep climbing. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Monday, December 1st, 2003
6:08 pm	One ordinary day a girl swallowed a fishbone inadvertantly coincidentally the sharp edged piece of bone became lodged stuck in her life time passed making smoother the prickles wearing down the pain and when she knew things were not quite all right a bit queasy by then the girl had learned enough to turn the bone (which was now part of her forever) into a rather unusual pearl. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Wednesday, November 5th, 2003
7:02 am	I wish sleep were elastic- I'd stretch it out between two nicely spaced points in time and hang laundry (my thoughts from the day washed and wrung out) ...bleached gently in the moonlight, soft and sweet-smelling for tomorrow's battle. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Tuesday, October 21st, 2003
11:49 pm	my essay for nat'l merit, not even an essay and two weeks late My name is Yuki (“snow” in Japanese) we are all snowflakes no two are the same and yet- we all have so much in common I can’t describe what sets me Apart, because that is what makes me Part of everyone else I like to write poetry not Whitman or Dickinson but unmistakably me. Writing poetry is like painting a picture Except the words are alive existence suspended until read out loud thereby set free poetry is freedom with no margins freedom to roam the snowy expanse of this blank sheet of paper the words a trail of footprints punctuated by silence since we must all breathe sometime (Comment on this)
Tuesday, September 23rd, 2003
7:43 pm	the sun shined in just the right way today one ray fell through the cracks between the leaves and then, at approximately seventeen minutes past three i saw what had been hidden i've been standing here now, looking, for the longest moment ready to jump (and reach) scared to fall, and dreading the setting of the sun (3 Comments |Comment on this)
Tuesday, September 16th, 2003
9:48 pm	when I was little and gumballs were exciting all the lights in the night sky were stars now I know that stars don't turn on and off stars don't come in red, either so next time you make a wish make sure its really a shooting star and not a dying plane. (3 Comments |Comment on this)
Wednesday, September 10th, 2003
5:54 pm	I'm standing on the stage blinking blinded and all that I can see are stars I'm standing, waiting for reality to hit me (the stars will die) rotton fruit, flung from a blurry providence (Comment on this)
Thursday, August 28th, 2003
10:21 pm	to kelly outside the window empty chairs face each other on the balcony, leisurely whispering juicy gossip after a hard day's work (a shiny cookpot rests at their feet, placidly soaking up the sounds of summer). (Comment on this)
Monday, August 25th, 2003
7:22 pm	run away it was night, and the moon was out the shadows played hide and seek behind alabaster statues as the rain fell softly on the leaves in the garden, dark eyes gleamed a rabbit's plaster nose twitched- (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Tuesday, August 12th, 2003
9:44 pm	she said Let them eat cake, and so they ate with an empty glitter in their eyes, tongues dulled with the aspartame sweetness of the frosting is what makes the cake the people eat and grow fatter a muffin, lacking the sparkling sugary crust, grows stale on its plate a forgotten monument to simple pleasures (Comment on this)
Saturday, August 2nd, 2003
10:35 pm	she was marked in plain view reddened knuckles, throat, and her eyes Why couldn't they see? the shadowy parasite lurking within, where even the daylight could not reach she was afraid like a claustrophobic in a shrinking room dread stifled her voice no one came to her rescue no one realized the ghost in their midst (4 Comments |Comment on this)
Wednesday, July 30th, 2003
10:27 pm	Once upon a time there was a old-timey movie theatre where tickets cost $2, and popcorn was only $1. The theatre was home to a family of mice. The youngest (and most mischevious) mouse was named Rudolph (his full name was Rudolph Valentino after a sentimental fancy of his mother's). They lived behind the creaky panels of the theatre's sole screening room in a dwelling carpeted with dust and papered with discarded ticket stubs. What Ralph liked most was to watch movies from the safety of the flickering shadowsto while eating popcorn and slivers of Ivory soap. The family did not live alone in the building; the neighbors included a crusty old rat with a penchant for gangster films and a runaway hamster named Goldie the third. No one knew the rat's name, or where he had come from. As for the hamster, they were cordial neighbors in every respect. However, Rudolph made it a point not to visit Goldie during mealtimes after once observing Goldie stuff himself with pop-eyed abandon, talking all the while. Rudolph's best friend was an ancient janitor whose companionable mutterings and sweeping lulled Rudolph to sleep at night. err... (3 Comments |Comment on this)
Monday, June 30th, 2003
11:56 pm	free time I was thinking of ideas for children's stories, just because i think it would be fun to write one...like a story about a mouse who lived in a movie theatre and ate popcorn and watched movies :)he was friends with a runaway hamster and lived next door to a dour old rat. They are evicted by the evil sanitation officers and was kicked out into the real world, but it felt like an alien planet because it was nothing like the world he had observed...i don't know what will come next in this story, so stay tuned! (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Sunday, June 29th, 2003
6:02 pm	naptime If you give a squirrel popcorn he will scamper over adn grasp a kernal with his paws, delicately nibbling with abrupt swishes of his busy tail. If you give a hamster popcorn he will sniff it with round, beady eyes and tickly whiskers, stuff his cheeks until his eyes get squinty, and then waddle off, slightly off-balance, to take a nap. (Comment on this)
Tuesday, June 24th, 2003
1:06 am	my brain is… Some days, I fear …on delay I am merely floating through Frayed thoughts… life as a ghost …echo feebly on my brain such feeble desperation drives me tonight while I pray for all… I search, sleeplessly, for traces …the fish, hamsters of the significance of my life and faithful guinea pigs… within the glossy biographies of others ...that passed from this world a reason to pat myself on the head and I prayed for the… climb into bed …old folks who can hear you at peace (enough to if you speak loud enough… quietly live/die another …and everyone with day). SARS. (2 Comments |Comment on this)