bffs

today, emily prayed for me.

Eyes lap for moisture like dogs at their bowls.
A ball of yarn, twisted and multicolored, fails to unravel in my chest and side... knots-never-ending.com

-- how does one get a cramp while lying still on their bed mid-night?; this heart beats too fast for it's own good--

Slippery film distorts one's perception.
Verse-less songs and scattered self-worth leads to..

So I begin, like my old and sadly forgotten friend:
“God, just keep me from dying before I’ve done
something... Thanks.”

-beth

don't write don't write don't know why

i hate that i never write in this thing. no one reads it, and yet, the annual St Patrick's festivities remind me to begin anew.

something old , borrowed, or blue. Who knows:

they started moving chairs across the creaky floors of my stomach in May.
I'm still so hungry after this feast of a meal,
Will you, kind sir, be of some help?
A medical note would be so appreciated.

Do you remember, as you furrow-scratch your brow,
my pacing atop parking garages?
Just wrap me in your blanket and feed me alphabet soup.
Send soft messages soon... comfort me... comfort me.

------


blah blah blah. Something new.

baxter

the mouse is chewing on the pipe again.

michael bernard leibovich, a foreshadowing?

a sporadic blog, at best.

i read posts and am appalled at how inarticulate i was at times...

--------

Leibovich (Lay, not Lee) Our initial introduction- understated and premature, yet noteworthy enough for the fourth post. (see march 28th, 2005)

a postcard of his face remained on my parents' refrigerator for years, peeking at me as I sifted through empty shelves, unaware that our lives were tumbling towards each other.

and now i am very much in love with him... how remarkably, wonderfully random.
----

and yes. there may be a mouse in our house? where is ashley werth when you need her?

a swedish, ceramic Christmas

swedish pop, please.

you'll be the rhythm, and I'll be the beat.

-------------
relationships putter out.

but i'll keep plucking you with suspenseful anticipation because
dead thuds always surprise-
like toilets splashing onto ceramic floors. Such a mess.

-------------
dream details not to be interpreted include but are not limited to-

brooklyn-cocktails, flat-chested-ness, etc.

-------------
i imagine christmas like it's my job. (ha)

www.stpaulswired.org/christmas

stop frying ants if they aren't trying to bite you.

open wounds, or open doors, or open whatevers surprise you
tossing out things that infuriate your inners long, long, long distances
and heartbeats
and sunsets after the fact.

Which heartbeat's thud will ring in an era of not caring and not checking?

- I scrutinize these proverbial doors and gauges as if they've possibly changed,
only to catch some cruel aberration on a given Sunday that reverberates through thoughts till sound waves fade and die between my heart and my ribs-
silence remains like a corpse I willfully disregard.

my magnifying glass is broken, but I'm still preemptively frying red ants?


on an entirely different page (723)

I'm in to candles. I'm reading a book about vampires. I'm in love.

graduation. (again)

cross legged in a boob, black suited and tasseled up --> the turning of which groans relief just moments away.

17 years, first day : last day. circular circles are our lives.

five years in the making and if you look up and to the left you will see the support structure of this educational master piece: my family, etc. smiling and bored and thankful that names-not-read equals more picture/smoking time in the sunny sun.

UConn brightens up when students leave.

i am leaving.

an awkward wave across the court where Omeka dribbles his basketball.

a panic attack about school violence deferred.

T. Levine, our wizard professor, squeezes me tight despite my anti-teaching sentiments. His graduate hood hangs on him, a weepy child.

curly-haired love gleams down. he is right here. he is RIGHT here. (a calm lake)

annabel and kim and i will go to europe for eight weeks- tip toe our way from here to there and back again. But now we flow about st. paul's, celebration on our breath. If graduation parties are at all like wedding planning, then i'll see you in vegas.

The Bidwell welcomed us late last night, family and etc's full of merriment, giggles and the like.

in an 1820 pub i breath full lungs of awe at God whose gifts are ineffably good.

crackling air, swelling heart

Spring moans, rolls in humid sheets dusty from excessive introspection



in this very moment, Winter awkwardly readjusts itself.
shackled up tight, as far away as can be.




can't hold your breath through this seasonal tunnel

(not like how we hold our breath mid-august when indian-suns squeek around the curve...a mere S.L.O. mountain pass until your embittered heart shakes a fist towards the sky, cursing Spring and her deceitfulness.)




but for now? pure, unadulterated trees swish naked, guaranteeing a long, long stretch before they'll undress again.




ensconced on the porch, chest pushed up and out, a polished 42 dangling from my neck.
surprised? i know. 42 so often reserved for CA days.

It seems the nutmeg state is winning me back rather effortlessly this spring. Locusts sing and i retract my trash talk, reminding the readership that i am, and always will be, a connecticut elitist.

today today tomorrow today.

-coventry aches all over with her chapped lips and grassy gray grasses.
-patches of moss atop nathan hale. (his ruins lie about where they lie)
-the wadsworth breaths spring freshness : Pop to the Present: New Questions, New Responses... art: a dialogue between viewer and creation and creator.. and Creator?
-yes, one hour a day does sound nice.

me and shnazy mcgils.

i like him.

kim face

Photo 49
Originally uploaded by eleanordiclemente

come home kim. come home.

not here not there

-------

not here not there
we stand beneath
a ladder drawing
anxious breaths
with buldging hearts
we're kind of here
and kind of there
inside a church
beneath bad luck
you hold my hand

not here not there
a tug of war
with gripping fists
we're making progress
towards hot sands
where glassy shards and bottled treasures
scratch our toes

not here not there
we read the words
with cracking spirits
needing balm
renew our minds
we're hardly there
we're hardly here
we're hardly there

---------

iambic verse

from an office window in the humid city....

These key strokes on etern'ty's walls won't write.
While joggers whom, oppressed in heat, push through
But stagnate on the corner so they die,
Awaiting ends to blinking hands. They die.
For everyone who jogs in place will die.
The District lifts its legs in place....

hold-able.

Voidness
to stillness welcoming echoy bellows to rumble your bones,
this font rattles so sharp and cutting,
a hot coal burning all anxiousness to beady puddles,
you’ll sprawl to the floor each day
and lay hot cheeks to cold floors,
sweeping cherubim,
a hold-able reality.

in a year of 'first-annuals'...

Originally uploaded by eleanordiclemente

a second annual.

brooklyn and new years, beth, adam, and 500 cakes in a truck.

from hipster-town, usa

Originally uploaded by eleanordiclemente

Originally uploaded by eleanordiclemente

DSC02550
Originally uploaded by eleanordiclemente

east of eden

Oh! How one projects themselves on to literature!

Authors give us their detailed pages: coloring books really, black and white and hollow. Textual figures begging to be filled, enticing us to flow and spill our very selves in to them.

beth paint.

And while we read, our crayola minds scribble inside and outside the lines, shading with various textures of intent, emphasis mushed around the borders.

And when we're all done, you and I tear out identical pages and post them on a mustard refrigerator

Taking three steps back, heads tilt-clicked to the side, the pages suggest that we've just read two very different novels.

fresh word-salads and such

to whom it may concern:

the words will spew forth once again. yes yes. time to get my readership updated.







******************************************************

web CT wonderfulness

washington dc.
web ct.
blackboard within a bell jar.

behind every face on the metro is an exploding dilema pushing me out the door and onto a silent platform where i will await the next breezy arrival.

the o so neutrotic sylvia wanted two mutually exclusive things simultaneously.
i concure. So i stand dangerously on the beaded platform that digs into my heals, watching keyboard "o's" approach while tumbling "w's" roll the weighy woes of washington through my hair, splash on to my face. a sick refreshment each and every rush hour.

1A psalm of Asaph. (number seventy three)
Surely God is good to Israel,
to those who are pure in heart.

2 But as for me, my feet had almost slipped;
I had nearly lost my foothold.

3 For I envied the arrogant
when I saw the prosperity of the wicked.

4 They have no struggles;
their bodies are healthy and strong. [a]

5 They are free from the burdens common to man;
they are not plagued by human ills.

6 Therefore pride is their necklace;
they clothe themselves with violence.

7 From their callous hearts comes iniquity [b] ;
the evil conceits of their minds know no limits.

8 They scoff, and speak with malice;
in their arrogance they threaten oppression.

9 Their mouths lay claim to heaven,
and their tongues take possession of the earth.

10 Therefore their people turn to them
and drink up waters in abundance. [c]

11 They say, "How can God know?
Does the Most High have knowledge?"

12 This is what the wicked are like—
always carefree, they increase in wealth.

13 Surely in vain have I kept my heart pure;
in vain have I washed my hands in innocence.

14 All day long I have been plagued;
I have been punished every morning.

15 If I had said, "I will speak thus,"
I would have betrayed your children.

16 When I tried to understand all this,
it was oppressive to me

17 till I entered the sanctuary of God;
then I understood their final destiny.

18 Surely you place them on slippery ground;
you cast them down to ruin.

19 How suddenly are they destroyed,
completely swept away by terrors!

20 As a dream when one awakes,
so when you arise, O Lord,
you will despise them as fantasies.

21 When my heart was grieved
and my spirit embittered,

22 I was senseless and ignorant;
I was a brute beast before you.

23 Yet I am always with you;
you hold me by my right hand.

24 You guide me with your counsel,
and afterward you will take me into glory.

25 Whom have I in heaven but you?
And earth has nothing I desire besides you.

26 My flesh and my heart may fail,
but God is the strength of my heart
and my portion forever.

27 Those who are far from you will perish;
you destroy all who are unfaithful to you.

28 But as for me, it is good to be near God.
I have made the Sovereign LORD my refuge;
I will tell of all your deeds.

an earthquake in the mid-atlantic ridge this week has caused God-sized tsunamis to crash into my shores...

now is the time for nonresistance my friends.

Volo omnes felicem novum annum habere!

why not a blog on the first of 2007?

a night in a chinese town, 80's style fist punching to The Slip and dehydration of the soul.
no sleep till brooklyn with a best friend's best friends.

and it was wonderful.

bathrooms with LCD monitors are a good way to find out that the people you are eating with are secretly cavorting about behind your back...

and chasing rock starts-with-horns is a good way to bond with a bronwyn.

i think i'll move to nyc this week. fickle fickle fickle. just as rocky's town drew me in last week, with its street cheese steaks and upset stomachs in a Mutter museum.

philadelphia is eye opening in a way you don't quite want it to be, with that red lizard on your shoulder and all... which you'd like to hold on to until at least the 17th. it makes you cry... oh the vague-ity of a bethblog. forgive forgive. these aren't quite meant to be understood.... and all art is really quite useless.

atheneums draw you in, with or without the jazz... and walt whitman permeates souls through the photography of a dead adulterer.

as for boston: 2 strikes for parent-trapped-traveling and sold out museums. but altogether quite metropolitan this week.

caminando... en el mar in la arena. en una semana. con devendra.

while drinking dong lei cha. at the diamond. with 15 of your closest nonfriends from GHS. and chelsiedave.

glorification for a God who answers prayers... at times you hardly expect. a new believer. a new brother.

i got 500 cakes in the trunk so lets not underestimate the delightfulness of spooning, punching people in the proverbial throat, and incorrect usage of the word "bourgeois"

getting boys out-their-boxes as we hold hands and praise the Lord for pasta and meatballs.... while contemplating the repercussions of an abusive boyfriend.

and now home for a little dorian gray.. the desktop picture is in accordance with skateboarding to mexico so it looks like i'm good to go...

three kiddos in the bleachers

Originally uploaded by bethanneclements.

i huffed and puffed all the way to the top. just like rocky b.

tonight was altogether undergraduate-y, arm hooked under his for heating purposes, we talked in divers accents, pondering heavenly things while a toenail moon rose above Gampel.

Borat Tells a Chair Joke

there is a chair

love sorcerer and the expedition. just for steve

i have no transitional ability. reynolds said so today. so excuse the arbitraryness of it all.

love sorcerer and the expedition. show one.
adam played tonight... and i pridefully, chest-stuck-out-and-nose-in-the-air felt the need to let them all know that we were friends. some might say best.

save darfur.

when all that was done, we hard core danced like there was no tomorrow. pounding fists in to thin air and pushing scrawny kids with side bangs. stomping legs like three-year old temper-tantrum-ers.

lindsey v. is a great great girl.

its funny to mock hard core dancing and then garner this little crowd that takes it for real.

soooo i mosh. "take me out-your box" ~micah upon going to see shakespeare

but put me in a drum kit-kase. (emily dickenson used - lots of-----random dashes)

there is a chair and the chair it has the shoes and the chair is walking la la la la

we sing songs as we go. about elves and such, and praising the Lord (pronounced Lawd)...that is, until RAs tell us to hush-frup.

and even if it does all end with one converse in the mud and a trip down a mud slide on a hilltop hill.... it was still a stinkin great night.

i really need to create
not at all unlike the One i look up to

reflections of shea

true. i have not posted in such a long long time.
and yet, i have no desire to catch it up. and so, let us not talk about the past.

i was at shea stadium today with my dad. then i sat with mom playing rumikub and listening to claire de lune on the antiquated record player.

if i may say.. . i took a nice picture of the stadium. :) goodnight goodnight.

(in not speaking about the past, beth has decided to provide an alternate link for wedding/hong kong pictures._
(in doing this... she has talked in 3rd person, and is therefore contemplating using the "royal we" in the near future as well)

http://www.flickr.com/photos/58333412@N00/

reflections of shea

reflections of shea
Originally uploaded by bethanneclements.

bethchelschelseryn

bethchelschelseryn
Originally uploaded by bethanneclements.

i can not quite tell you how cracked out i am right now.

the days of late have been blissfully blissful.

tonight my neighborhood became magical. something about the way the light was outside... shadows perfectly cast here and there, and a mother speed walking along beside me. for the first time in ten years the lane became home.. and i wished that one of the sidewalk blocks had my perspiring palms pressed in to them with a scribble name and perhaps a star.

sometimes i wish i could talk about God without sounding like a christian sounds when they are talking about God.

i wish i could break out of it.....i am about to sound like that.

esther is from kowloon. does it surprise me like we surprised her? no. because God continues to confirm His will with these things.... por ejemplo:

the lady i was placed with for student teaching next year JUST got back from teaching english in china.

coincidence?

she had me over monday to watch the dvd on her trip.

chinese food, cultural do's and don'ts, asian treasures, pictures, memories.

3 hours later i was more excited than words can tell.

"listen to the music sing sweet songs to rock my soul." eh....why not throw a grateful dead quote in?

(to bring an out-of-the-loop-er up to speed: beth takes off from LA in July and touches down 16 hours later to teach english for a month.. i heart asian middle schoolers)... ya. i used third person up above. what of it.

anyways, now i just HAPPEN to know four native speakers with whom i will talk when i return, fluent in the o-so-easy tongue of the Cantons.

ha.

a surprise party with chopsticks, dumplings, silly string, helium (call my voicemail), and a card that read "Your mom."

the perfect segue out of a blissful week and in to a blissful weekend.

food eaten with chopsticks is the current them. i'm subconsciously getting ready for the 26th.

a bridal shower for cassie made me cry. no one saw, but i thought id let you know. my brother is getting married, and i'm officially an emotional adult, crying tears of joy all over the place. pathetic slash touching. i know.

"Little Tibet" served as a little test: beth: will you, or will you not force yourself out of indecisiveness and in to the world of risky decisions on what to eat?
well. i passed fabulously. the food was great... the company was even better. and not awkward. but maybe thats because i just dont really get awkward.

i like silence.

embrace it people

.... um. (once again. very cracked out). but yes. little tibet, then a walk down the street to listen to beth sing with her guitar and a boy with quite the voice. sigh.

the trees out side are blowing about, and here i am, safely not participating. it looks quite like a movie screen and i really do just let it all take place while i sit....a little too worried about my posture these days....and watch it all go by.

i love to sing. perhaps ill learn the guitar. or something. regardless, big head sculptures on the streets of middletown made me happy. so let us go then you and i. shall we dare disturb the universe?

8 feet are currently standing in one state! a rare rarity. chelsie chelsea and eryn. i love them. late night ridiculous kept me up last night, and it was worth every hipster i had to dodge. we've known her for 10 years.... thanks. that makes us more important.

o man. this could go on forever, but seeing as it is very bad writing, that i will likely edit slash delete it, and i am surviving on 4 hours of sleep, i think i will give in to the garfield pillow case. ................
.
.
.
....

the open hand policy. because that’s all I want deep down to the depths.
a landing platform for the things to come and go accordingly, without greedy grasping, garnering the oh-so-heavy chains of idolatry…
pry these fingers apart...stretching them unto functionality when happy palms will perspire in the glorious noon day Son.

behold, to obey is better than sacrifice...

happy birthday to joshuaaaa

this began as a genuine attempt at a cohesive blog. logical sentence structures and everything.
but I was so bored with it. so so so so so boringly boring.
epic blogs need an epic pupose.
(john miltons purpose: to justify the ways of God to man.)
(beth clements’ purpose: to make sense in her writing while not being boring)

both tough goals.

here we go. lets try again

I went to maine maine maine maine this weekend.
It was a crusade of crusaders. Ryan spooner packed us in to his oh-so-wonderful mini van, and got us up to Josh’s birthday number 22. Birthday parties are totally in by the way. Ya know how brown is the new black? well, birthday parties are the new keggers…. alcohol-free fun is for everyone!

It turns out that Josh’s dad is important. Their little peninsula of land is quaint.

we went out for coffee and I ran in to an old friend of mine from childhood. you might know him. mike o’mally? guts? astrocrag? ya. I didn’t wanna bother him though. ya know. there would have just been so much catching up to do….. and we were both with people….. yadda yadda yadda…..

Mafia was as fun as ever.. we even played with josh’s dad. Captain D. Sykora. dun dun dun. Christians and Mafia just goes together so perfectly.

Josh goes to this mini little church up there, and it was great! who wouldn’t love singing old hymns to cassette tapes fully accompanied by a 124 person choir in the background? The pastor clicked pictures of all the guests while speaking a bold message of Truth. I have certainly never seen such a great performance of “I’m in the Lord’s Army.” if you think you have, you’re probably mistaken. ☺

the ride home was surprisingly pleasant. when im in a car, off track-ness is usually this huge pet-peeve of mine…. but I wasn’t annoyed once yesterday.. even if it did take 4 hours to get home. instead, I got to drink lots of Gatorade, talk about santa, climb a hill off the side of the high way, go in and out of a few storms, talk about salvation and Jesus, and see the most beautiful rainbow that I have ever seen ever.

and I got so much sleep last night. then I spent all day with the chills, curled up in some blankets and sleeping through a 24 hour cold. Good thing Airborn and Gatorade cures all my ailments. got a cold? a cough? a cut on your left toe? just add a little prayer and your good as new.


anyways. off to bed. hope that all made sense. Happy birthday josh.

true schmoos


meep


mike o'malley (left)


spoon...spooner!




sara, me, josh, ??


beautifulness in maine


rainbow


why is she in the woods?

some randomness

schmoo


heather my love


me a dress a house a car a reflection


concert with my dad


riding in cars with dad

eryn cooney. love love love

eryn cooney. love love love
Originally uploaded by bethanneclements.

varying degrees of absurdity all look the same from above.

Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are waiting for their cue.
a dumbwaiter or something.
absurd
absurd
absurd.

the girl offered me all she had.
epiphanies as seen in The Garden Party

to write about it would be to expose counterfeit-i-cal-ness
who wants to do that.
we sat so close…. attending a conversation that neither of us were at.
a little too poetic, kind of makes you want to puke

but its ok. ear-phoned men cant hear what your saying anyways.

I wish I could take a logical turn in this mess of key strokes.
but the signs all say no left turns.

where are we. new jersey?

regardless
I am going to hong kong.

happiness and such

lauryn hill unplugged album
my levi's
the name levi
jephthah
sitting in the shower
the cave-like tree on campus that i climb in to
playing the body drums
when my hair in tangled
june 27th
air shows
july 4th
bananas that have spots on the outside. not too too many. but just the right amount
imagining in my head what song is playing on your iPod
phil 3:8.. the rubbish part
goosebumps (the books and the bodily function)
china
things like this

Originally uploaded by bethanneclements.

scrub it off until its gone
never to be seen again
ink in my fingers
blackened nails.... and im washing my hands over again and again
lady Macbeth, mulling around this castle.
noooo condemnation here, yet begging the question in some lamenting and repetitive fashion:
where are these accusational pangs coming from?

i guess we're counting all things loss

repetition for emphatic purposes
shake the head with wonder three times over
over over over
at the overwhelmingness of your glory. of your being which borrows breath

breath is taken away in the thumps and twangs of a banjo solo. right on as he sang

"Glory. Hallelujah! when i layyyyy... my burdens downnnnn"

praise Yahweh. because of the cochlear creation. an ability to decipher mere nuances in the waves surrounding me.

oh, if i could just master over these waves and make them pleasing to Your ears

but You simply ask for a noise.
a chara noise

oh to be a breadwise lyricist
oh to have my mouth filled with correct praise. to praise you as you are.
yet you
so knowable
so unknowable

the bits and pieces of my broken being are a mini orchestra splattered about
but their composer has tapped for attention
and leads them in His opus.

He cries. it was what they were created to play.
buy the soundtrack sometime
it will, when played backwards, sound like that verse you read at hockey games

taht dlrow eht devol os doG roF
noS nettogeb ylno siH evag eH
ni hteveileb reveosohw taht
tub hsirep ton dluohs miH
efil lanrete evah

interesting how the masterful Composer creates pieces that are deeper than they appear.

they gave Him a grammy. best seller by far.
judges appreciate the piece without realizing it's depths
if they only knew that played at an endless number of speeds
it would speak to a man's depths and soul and alter it a bit

powerful powerful stuff
all praise to the great Composer.

my little lips sing to you. to you. to you.
hello goodbye and thank you Sir.

we go to 80's retro parties.