I mean that I write what I see, what’s told to me that I feel very deeply, or what happened to me that I can’t forget, but also what happened to others I love, or what strangers have told me happened to them, or what I read happened to others. I take all of this and cut and paste it together to make a story, because in real life a story doesn’t have shape, and it’s the writer that gives it a beginning, a middle, and an end.
Of course, I cannot borrow anyone else’s story unless I have lived a similar emotion. That is why I say all the emotions in my work, good and bad, are autobiographical. Does that make sense? For how could I write about a broken heart if my own heart hadn’t been parted in two like an apple? -Sandra Cisneros
in case you’re wondering.
July 9, 2009 by elleNot Summer of Love
July 2, 2009 by elleI think I love someone. But for the past two days, I’ve been suffocating that idea. Hands hold a firm grip. Die. For if you return. I will kill again. I can be unlovable or maybe not. And the other one, with the different kind of love – pleasantly given on top of me. I decided not to suffocate my feelings for you. But drive them off the road into the water so I can watch them drown. Like the way you did between my legs. Fuck love.
Summer of Love
July 2, 2009 by elleCrush by Ada Limón
Maybe my limbs are made
mostly for decoration,
like the way I feel about
persimmons. You can’t
really eat them. Or you
wouldn’t want to. If you grab
the soft skin with your fist
it somehow feels funny,
like you’ve been here
before and uncomfortable,
too, like you’d rather
squish it between your teeth
impatiently, before spitting
the soft parts back up
to linger on the tongue like
burnt sugar or guilt.
For starters, it was all
an accident, you cut
the right branch
and a sort of light
woke up underneath,
and the inedible fruit
grew dark and needy.
Think crucial hanging.
Think crayon orange.
There is one low, leaning
heart-shaped globe left
and dearest, can you
tell, I am trying
to love you less.
Photos from Born in ‘88 ! 6/17/09
June 28, 2009 by elleOMG I am so late. But here are some pics from my Birthday party back on June 17. A special day to me for several reasons. Thank you to everyone who came out…Shawn Lawrence James, my older sister India, Animal Behavior, Ray Kairos, Wave, Christine, 106th, Mimi, Shyvonne, DJ Will Gates, J. Cole. Ib, Elite, Omen, GWIZ, Roland, Danyel Smith, Elliott Wilson, John Kennedy, Goat, Donny Goines, Danni, Alex Gale, Laura Checkoway, D. Scott, Omar A., Anthony, Morales… okay, everyone. [** by Rahan Cotterel]
21, ya’ll**
The cake, it’s a stack of books. 
AnimalBehavior y John Kennedy
Sorry, Mámá?
Me y J. Cole
Whose arm is this? I love you.**
It’s Mimi, Baby.**
AB
AB, Waverly, Me**
Omen and J. Cole performing “The Badness” DOPE**
Cole Killin’**
Mas.**
Dannii !**
Loyalty. Those are Let’sJustEatCheese stickers. Omar A. He’s been reading my work since Journalism class in high school.
Trying to hide from a camera, per usual.
106th WORKING.
Shyvonne was AMAZE.**
Never gave a fuck about no high end fashion.**
Have a Good Day
June 27, 2009 by elleWhen I open my eyes
I see the world around me
like trees, flower, people. and me
If I believe in myself
I know just what to do and say
Life is good
to me and you
poem by Kyla Barbosa
**Kyla is my 8 year old sister. She is, pretty much, just like me.
Other Stories
June 27, 2009 by elleChampagne glasses shattered across the floor.
Valet sensed the urgency.
Began to think about the ocean. You on the beach. The sounds, the waves, the cries of joy. Your forearm. Strength. Grip.
Where’s the car?
Are you happy now? You asked. You’ve used what you think love is. And you turned it into a self-portrait. Are you happy? All the success. You. Your words. You and your words. Before you go, tell me. Are you happy?
I take in the ocean when I can. Aren’t people always searching for more?
You can read Other Stories here.
***
It’s usually the Brooklyn basements or Recita rooftops that make me realize I hate this earth. It’s waking up at 6am, while you lay sleeping, wondering how, physically, my body managed to make it to you, to here. And it all comes together, at different times, in pieces, like a foreign family to the free land. The earth is giving up on me. There is no feeling of joy, no height of climax, no – connecting. But there is you. There is this earth. This basement. That rooftop. Your words. Your time. The earth is going to have my soul. I cannot move. My hands. They’re moving. I am touching everything.
You want to know. More and more. You know so much, know so little. There are questions. There are your eyes. I am sitting, watching your eyes and your hands. And I’m starting to think about writing. There is no feeling but there are words. The words of sleepless nights, the stolen, the deceit, the bags, love, hate, lies, drugs, alcohol, parents, moms, dads, sisters, brothers, enemies, envy, hair, cheese, there is wine. You begin to drink. There are questions. You ask. Where is the happiness? What about the sex, the love, the passion, hugs, rain in the height of summer, the sun, smiles, sons, daughters, children. I am in a basement. And it’s usually the basements or rooftops that make realize there is – this earth.
Rest
June 27, 2009 by elle
after anything
June 23, 2009 by elle
via sartorialist
“if i write about my ‘feelings’ for him, do u think they will die?” editor: “nah”
June 20, 2009 by elleI cannot wait to see you
Keep thinking about what you’ll say
What I’ll say
Been hoping you’d stop dancing
Around
What we could be
Yes and yes
To what you want
I picture us
Us here
Us there
Lighting
Blowing
Your candle
My flame
And suddenly I am scared
Of what we may not be
You are like success
Like happiness
To me
Here
Gone
Here and
Gone
But stay
Or kill me dead
My flame
Like before prom
before wedding
Anxiety
I’ll close you like a book
If you’re feet continue to dance
Around this beat
Unparalleled and hot
Praying this goes away
Sign sending to the universe
in secret
Wanting you to stay
WEDNESDAY, JUNE 17TH
June 17, 2009 by elle
SLJ says No Robocops. But ya’ll fine by me.
AnimalBehavior will slay you, so please be appropriate.
Chloe’s coming from Cali.
106th is wearing a leopard print onesie. And singing Happy Birthday.
The LJEC community will make sure you’re good.
YOU better be there.
SO NECESSARY
June 15, 2009 by elle
I Really Mean It
June 10, 2009 by elle
Allure; distilled vodka
June 8, 2009 by elleHe was perfect. She talked about how it felt when she touched him; he felt like a man. She hadn’t thought of him until he sent her a message. Then it all came back. The four different cars. The woman he felt on top a bed of leaves. The lies. The leaving. Her words.
They spent four hours sitting in a car talking about the intimate moments they shared – the public and the private. And when they kissed, she realized the walls he couldn’t get pass and the walls he could tear down. Screen captures of his face from the last time, on top of her, giving a different kind of love.
With her head in his lap she thought about what it would be like for him to be the one she did love. The one she wanted to love. Ready to love the one who didn’t know she loved him. She thought about what he would say. What they’d talk about. How his waist would feel in her grip. But she’d wait for that.
In the car she asked him why he sent the message. His indistinct answer was something along the lines of missing her, tired of going off memory. Despite her sudden departure, he was glad he could inspire some of her work. She looked out the window of the car that sat idle on a dead end street. Thought about how she prayed for men and played with boys. Looked to him and said Thank you.
