moyle, emily elizabeth

• i have made more mixtapes than promises
• i make wishes on stone rings that i know will break all too easily
• today is january 19th and i still haven't submitted any college applications
• long, handwritten notes & homemade cd's are my favorite gifts
• i only use lush cosmetics
• i watch people's snapchat stories while i'm peeing #notime
• i think my nose is awesome
• i have deeply-vested musicality and flow
• i still listen to the jonas brothers sometimes.  not sorry.
• i am obsessed with anatomy, art history, astronomy, and health sciences
• i am really good friends with all of my ex boyfriends
• i have long, lovely fingers that can stretch 10 piano keys
• i'm glad that i've gone through sh*t because it's the best way to learn
• i want to go on a mission more than i want to go to college
• even though it's improbable, i want frank sinatra to reincarnate into my boyfriend
• i've never been grounded, even though i have deserved it
• i don't think it's weird to snuggle & hold hands with my best friends
• i get super excited to give gifts to people & see their reactions
• screw it, i think i'm hilarious
• i need affection to be stable & i'm quick to forgive
• i will throw myself under the bus in order to pacify an argument
• my eyes crinkle when i laugh
• i'm probably obsessed with something about you
• i most likely love you

"write about what disturbs you, particularly if it bothers no one else." - kathryn stockett, the help

everyone else laughed when the airheaded blonde girl made a racist joke in class.  our history teacher laughed, too.
i still think about that sometimes.

he told me that i wasn't very pretty.  he was joking, but still.  i was 9 years old.
i didn't finish my dinner that night.
i still think about that sometimes.

there was a homeless woman crying with her back against a 4 million dollar building.  she didn't have a sign. she didn't have a jar to collect cash; so no one stopped to help her, including me.
i still think about that sometimes.

my parents kissed each other in the kitchen on a night when i didn't think it would be the last time i saw that.
my mom opened her eyes too soon.
i still think about that sometimes.

the kid ahead of me in line whined because they gave him a candy cane that was broken.  he said broken wasn't good enough:
as if it wouldn't taste exactly the same as one that was whole.
i still think about that sometimes.

i don't even remember what my grandpa said before the last time he heard me laugh.
i still think about that sometimes.

my mother gathered the family together in our living room; she said my baby brother died before he was even big enough to feel heavy inside her belly.
neither of my parents cried.
i still think about that sometimes.

my piano teacher told me quietly that we couldn't have a recital anymore, she didn't want to touch the keys and get me sick.
i still think about that sometimes.

when i was 5, i loved my old cat so much, i wanted her to come to the store with us.
i hid her in the backseat until my mom got in the car, she meowed before we even made it to the main road.
my mom was angry instead of laughing.
i still think about that sometimes.

when i was 4, i remember telling my father that scripture was more important than television.  he turned it off immediately and told me i was right. i'm not so sure he thinks that anymore.
i still think about that sometimes.

i remember the only day our yellow lab was allowed to come inside, i didn't even know he was about to leave. i watched him sitting happily in the back of my dad's truck, oblivious.
i still think about that sometimes.

i remember once, my favorite babysitter wore a t-shirt that said "whatever, loser".
my mom didn't let her babysit us anymore.
i still think about that sometimes.

sammy & i would be playing with our toys on the floor when his mother would randomly decide that my hair was too long.
she would sit me down and cut off the hair resting with my eyebrows. she wouldn't even ask my mom; i didn't mind.
i still think about that sometimes.

;

at the end of creative writing 1, nelson asked us to write how we found paris.

i honestly believed that i hadn't found it yet, because my storybook was only halfway full

but i've learned that paris is not just a one line you can trust:

paris was each thing that awoke me;

that opened my eyes to ideas outside of number 2 pencils, composition notebooks and fluorescent lighting --

paris was timing my breaths to your poetry

paris was blue bucket of gold by sufjan stevens

paris was learning that i can actually make art, & that i'm a pretty decent dancer when i want to be

paris was writing poems about my mom i was scared she would read, & writing poems about my dad that i knew he never would

paris was long drives & short conversations

paris was the way nelson always thanks us after reading his poems

paris was a million different ideas that i still haven't finished

paris was the 3 notes in a song we all know so well

paris was asking cute boys out via poem

paris was being proud of rough-draft poetry & overthinking final publishes

paris was papercutted journal pages

and healing fingers

paris was convincing people with beautiful poetry that it's worth sharing

paris was my tears after listening to michael melendez's story

paris was learning to love myself and being okay with that

paris was writing lyrics for no one

paris was that song over, and over, and over, and over

paris was telling sol she is brave,

telling isabel she is lovely,

telling alysia, izzy, and amber 'thank you'

paris was late-night comments,

resurrections,

rebirths,

and renewals

paris was astronomical metaphors

& reading from treetops

paris was accepting that my steering wheel had known more tears than my journal pages

paris was making words, photos, drawings, collages, and ideas that belonged to my mind, and allowing all interpretations to belong to you

paris was trying to remind myself of my drugstore father

paris was famous last words

paris was being on my own endangered species list

paris was the passengers seat in boys' cars

paris was finding 37 ways to say i love you,

and saying them all.

paris was learning that even with a twisted spine, i could still feel like the tallest one in the room

paris was remembering when i would come home & my clothes would still smell like you

paris was sleeping with the lights on

paris was remembering my father's curly hair,

wearing his leather jacket when it got especially cold,

& missing the 3-minute long voicemails he would sometimes leave me on accident

paris was accepting that it's okay to not always understand, because art always has a deeper meaning

paris was becoming minimalist

paris was forgetting what my brother looked like when he was sad

paris was eventually learning to stop envying the photos in the obituaries

paris was praying out the window

paris was kissing at red lights

paris was diving in feet first, finally submerging after one final breath;

at the start of a poem,

between a phrase,

& not always at the end

paris was having a messy room & messier hair

paris was learning how to be content and still write good poetry

paris was the pulse in my bottom lip before reading an honest poem to a crowded room

paris was the last real moment before swallowing fear,

judgement,

and nervousy

paris was looking everywhere but the pages

paris was realizing that scars are like red dirt and flowers - they remind us that this world is beautiful

paris was treating poems like songs,

learning symmetry,

and achieving balance.

paris was more than a class, it is an opportunity & a blessing:

paris was teenage prayers

paris was making more mixtapes than promises

paris was "letting our hearts find more places

than the dust on our boots

& learning to occupy hallways

that are becoming

less crowded"

...

paris was

paris was

paris is.

thank you, kyle.

for not only being our favorite teacher,

but for being our friend.

as for you, & as for me,

(let us find out).

fondly and forever,

rosyln (emily) grey (moyle)

expressions from a jazz singer, an award-winning videographer, a silver-haired artist, & an amateur-guitar-player-but-slightly-more-experienced slam poet.

"we forget that we are all dead men conversing with dead men." - luis borges

poem:
making a fist - naomi shihab nye [1952]

song:
upward over the mountain - iron & wine [2002]

projected (impressionistic) painting:
l'estoque mit roten dächern - paul cézanne [1883-1885]


(isabel latimer, hannah staker, emily moyle, aspen meek)


"art is the antidote that calls us back from the edge of numbness."

"hey sydnee, say bllekeahgha so i know when you've started recording"

who ;

i still need to get my story straight.

this probably isn't what you were expecting but i have a lack of humor on this blog.
it starts off with some hall & oates ok deal with it.
..... 1:46am.

(snapchat - emiree.moyle)

here's these if you were honestly curious:

also i got new glasses yesterday and i look a whole heck of a lot more like john denver than a teenage girl should. 

ok ok ok haha here's a serious one.

it's a topic i've been wanting to write about for a while - but i've found it's easier to speak about.

(kinda sorta similar to my reintroduction)

wind happens.

and manual focus.

...here:

  

sweet disarray // like an artist

"wanna perfect body,
wanna perfect soul."
- thom yorke


maybe my soul's alright, but my body's all wrong;

i stand straight & tall even though i have a roller-coaster spine,
i cry almost every time i laugh,
i love folding blankets with others & i always drink with my pinkie out.

maybe my soul's all right;
i put away vinyls by using the sides of my palms
& tucking them briefly under my bottom lip
and i've always loved that about myself.

,
    i could have been your wisest idea,
your most loving notion;

so perhaps i will continue to hold these grudges
so that you may still occupy some space in my mind:
maybe my body's all wrong.

he touched me like an artist,
but i've never sensed weight behind brushstrokes.
he touched me like a musician,
but i'd forgotten black keys & high e strings.
he touched me like a historian:
but i'm a modernist and he's a road map.

i'm an orange peel
& you're a candy wrapper,

i'm a train ride
& you're a bike basket,

i'm frank sinatra
& you're 1977;

sometimes i still wanna wrap the sky up in a blanket
and leave it in your kitchen sink so your mother can say
she washed the dishes with her oldest friend -

so maybe my soul's alright,
but my body's all wrong:

i am the dust on your impeccable bookshelf.

\\

(manray, solarisation

circa 1929)

a few things that were too beautiful to keep to myself tonight

this song has so much personal importance:

 it was so brave of sufjan to trust it with someone else. 

(blue bucket of gold, sung by gallant)

"remember when you lost your shit and

drove the car into the garden

you got out & said 'i'm sorry'

to the vines,

& no one saw it"

(disclaimer : don't listen to when content). 

i'm really trusting you guys with this one;

close your eyes, listen, and feel broken open. 

every love,

rosyln (emily) grey (moyle)

up to chance; boy edition

(special thanks to solstice because i don't know anything about technology)
       

      i have never written about a boy, let alone multiple.
i don't trust myself enough for that, the line between too cheesy & too personal isn't thick enough to test;
ultimately, i don't know how to feel, and as a result i don't know how to write. (about boys.  i'll write about anything else, honestly).

(listen while you read - full playlist here).

not sure if this even follows the prompt this week but hey, i'm curious.

dear boys,
it all depends on my ipod shuffle.
sorry.


 BOY #1 
you're interesting, you're different, but in a good way i think.  we've hungout once.  we've snapchatted more.  i called you by your last name and it really bugged you, sorry.  i'm still interested in your notions.  i remember the first time your eyes found my face as you were talking.
  first song after hitting shuffle: no one's gonna love you - band of horses.
          "no one is ever gonna love you more than i do,
          & anything to make you smile,
          it is a better side of you to admire"
what can i give to you ? what do you need from me ? what can i teach you ? i don't even know your middle name.
i don't know what this means.


 BOY #2
i think i've known you longer than i've known myself.  if i didn't know better, i'd say that God had the same idea when designing us both.  you're my best friend, your grandpa really wants us to get married, i think i may have forgotten your favorite color.
  first song after hitting shuffle: hunting my dress - jesca hoop.
       "you're the one who showed to me the sky,
         it is so much more than you and i
         and darling, i wish i had the time"
well, shit.  i thought i was fairly certain on this one.
i don't know what this means.


 BOY #3
we went on a date in september and i still think about you.  sometimes i take the long way to class so maybe i can glance your way.  it's polar opposites: either you pretend you don't see me or you tell me (seemingly) exactly what's on your mind.  i'm pretty fearless and you're pretty reserved; what do you think of me ? i still remember all your favorite snacks.
  first song after hitting shuffle: i saw lightning - telekinesis.
         "i wanna care for you when you are all alone,
          sit inside our house and unplug all our phones
          watching raindrops stream down on our windowsill,
          let's be in love."
well, i can't think of a more terrifying song than this.  maybe all i can start with is being unapologetically and unconditionally kind: everyone needs that, right ?
i don't know what this means.


 BOY #4
i'm sorry. i'm sorry. i'msorryi'msorryi'msorry that i don't feel the same way.  i'll be your friend as well as i can be, and i'm not trying to play with you, i swear.  i just don't know what my friendly wave and my friendlier smile mean to you.  i still remember every time you told me i was beautiful.
  first song after hitting shuffle: the girl - city and colour.
         "i wish i could do better by you,
          'cause that's what you deserve"
i think this is how you feel, and i'm sorry.  the heart wants what the heart wants, and i'm not going to change my mind.
you're just my friend, and i don't know what this means to you.


 BOY #5
i only like you when i'm with you.  is that wrong ? i'm sorry, maybe i've just known you for too long and i don't see you enough.  maybe i'm just addicted to the way you adore me.  maybe it's because i still remember all the times i've made you laugh so hard that you cried.
  first song after hitting shuffle: silhouettes - of monsters and men.
         "cause when i sing, you shout
          i breathe out loud, you bleed,
          we crawl like animals
          but when it's over, i'm still awake.
          (a thousand silhouettes dancing on my chest,
          no matter where i sleep, you are haunting me)."
this is a tangled mess.  i need to draw the line; i've known you since we were born.  we always have been and always will be friends. just friends ?
i still don't know what this means.


 BOY #6
i know you love my mind and i know you love my teal dress, so just talk to me dammit.  i'll admit, i thought about you once while writing on a napkin in a thai restaurant, and i thought about you a few more times a month before preference.  nothing ever became of either of those things, and i can't decide if i'm sorry.  neither of us know what we're missing.  so if you're curious, talk to me in person; because heaven knows i've tried that with you.
  first song after hitting shuffle: angel mom - jesca hoop.
this isn't even a love song, and maybe that's how it's supposed to be. but next time you see me, still tell me what you think.  don't type it and publish it where i can only see your words and not your eyes.  tell me.
(loving me,
and loving the idea of me,
are two very different things).
i don't know what this means.


 BOY #7
i mean it when i say we've been everything.  we've been friends, we've been lovers, we've been in between, we've been places that we shouldn't and we've been everywhere that we should.  i'm your best friend and you mean more to me than whatever song can tell me you do.
  first song after hitting shuffle: the house that jack built - jesca hoop.
         "it's not enough,
           it's not enough,
           it's not enough to know you through them."
ironic that this is a song i've been thinking about showing you for a while now ?  i guess, here you go.
i'm so glad i've gotten to know you: all of you.  not through others and not even through my own interpretations - but all that you are: raw.
i think i'd be lying if i told you i don't know what this means.



re-stitched, freshly cut, hastily shredded, torn, patched, new, old, and lopsided loves to you all,
   
           (your) emily.

(i still don't know what any of this means)