Log in

No account? Create an account
hi, again [entries|archive|friends|userinfo]
Rainer Weissenfeld

[ userinfo | livejournal userinfo ]
[ archive | journal archive ]

(no subject) [Nov. 19th, 2009|05:15 pm]
Rainer Weissenfeld
all of these pressures
i know
most well
pit me down in the ranks
of the weak lot who know
most well
that which makes them strong
sung to them in a dizzying spell
whose chorus is punctuated
with familiar rhythms bastardized
by the singalong
sung so high and broken
the wrong words replace the height
of profundity
and i so low
i know
most well
all the tired lyrics to this song
sung on high
heard down below
LinkLeave a comment

burn the note [Nov. 14th, 2009|11:50 pm]
Rainer Weissenfeld
burn the note

nights, blinds drawn
the embers spark
like so many street lamps
down the lines
drawn, too close
enough to me
to make bend
the light of a fiery lamp
without a wick

liar, lost.
i thought too much of you, too quickly to realize
that you thought too much and lived too short
to know
you wanted too much too soon.

tired of waiting,
liar, found out.
LinkLeave a comment

(no subject) [Sep. 19th, 2009|12:07 am]
Rainer Weissenfeld
[Current Music |Enhate - Kap Bambino]

out of focus and out of touch
it's a dizzying spell
that won't bend my back to catch a fall
but if this is falling
let me down
i know where i'll land
that's where i don't know at all
how many times to fix a plan
did you overhear the words?
maybe on a distance
so much greater than preparing for
would lead you toward
such wayside passerbys
they're watching now?
no, they can't see past the nth degree
like a liar
on a stage
with a microphone
off key.
LinkLeave a comment

(no subject) [Sep. 19th, 2009|12:01 am]
Rainer Weissenfeld
could this be the first time i'm feeling this.

it's intense.
LinkLeave a comment

life like dolls by william eng [Jun. 6th, 2009|03:34 am]
Rainer Weissenfeld
the cracking of the door beat like so many memories of lashings and thrashings and 'what could have led her here,' thoughts like screams bent against the cracking of the door. and she pounded against it so hard that at one point she swore the sound was of her own wrist breaking against the weight of something so enormous in her heart and mind.

i want to be home. i have to get home.

so many days marked off in her mind, drawn down like a line from such a point of no return. it was christmas day, she remembered so faintly. So vividly did she remember thinking, 'just let me go back five minutes, just let this not be real,' then suddenly, 'this is really happening.'

'i wouldn't call myself a frail girl,' she retorted to her brothers description of who she was so many ages ago. 'i'm tough, and i'm clever too! tougher and cleverer than you!' she said without raising her voice, kept stern with a quiet severity. 'you're only bigger than me, and more daft.'

he smirked and replied, 'regardless of what you think you are, you're still a child, and children play with other children at such parties. now, go run along with the other wee ones. go on now. i told you.' but she couldn't help but look back at him, with what he guessed was an empty despair, but what she knew to be a frustrated questioning of 'who the hell must he think he is.'

it was a christmas party, she remembered as she clanked her fist again at the slowly weakening door. damaged, she gasped, red like a brick hit her face in the eyes. red so perfect it must be her own--so dismal and sweet it smelled against the rotting wood. she grew faint, not at the sight of her blood but at the realization that all of this was slowly killing her. she thought of the girl that walked up to her brother so many ages ago, and laughed with a quieting rebellion, 'you weren't so young but three years ago, and you'll always have been so young three years ago. when i'm so old you'll be older still and i won't have cared that someone was younger than me, that someone so much older was never the more wiser or clever or tougher. so don't ever condescend to me again. there's no need... because you've made your point clear, and you've made your point of no consequence to me.' how often she felt such wit descending their familial staircase away from his degradations all saved up for such a perfect moment... such an ultimate moment.

with a turn of the heel she walked away from him down the stairs to the level of children, who played with toys stacked high in a room meant for a child never born. she felt it's non existence like a toy elephant in the room being played with by, "Margaret put that down. That's not a toy!" she turned around to see Mrs. Garrison, the lady of the house, scold one of her husband's employee's children. All she could think was how surprised she was that Mrs. Garrison could remember her name. Margeret dropped the mouse trap with a snap. How queer she felt in a childless house full of children, it felt important but the reason escaped her. It just felt queer.

She screamed. The blood, the pain and the arrogance of the door ejaculated from her mouth in a torrent of terrified despair. "Just let me out of here!"

Mrs. Garrison picked up the mouse trap and placed it neatly behind the toy chest. This was a place for preserving, except for Christmas... especially on Christmas. Today the childless room would be mildly interrupted by timid children nestled safely between a rock, a hard place, their parents and a stampeding white elephant named, "Nathanial..." Mrs. Garrison sighed. She tried not to notice her secret intimation. But there was something in that gaze between her and Mrs. Garrison, and Mrs. Garrison and the pillow marked N that felt stranger than sorrow, and more desperate than despondence. There was something sinister there punctuated by Mrs. Garrison's pointed brow that arose a quivering smile. Gooseflesh erupted all over her. Mrs. Garrison was staring now at her. She looked down.

Without a cry or warning she jumped to her feet and with every fiber of need and neccessity rammed her shoulder straight into the weakest break of the door. Heaving with shock and broken splinters. Blood scraped her cheeks, wet and patched with grief. She touched them first before realizing it stung with a breeze. No more stale air. She inhaled and looked twice around. She was free... No... she would be.

To be continued.
Link2 comments|Leave a comment

gag reflex, lyrics form long ago... [Dec. 3rd, 2008|02:46 am]
Rainer Weissenfeld
gag reflex
by william eng

i saw it. with my eyes and my hands
i felt it. gorgeousness intertwined with
my reality. and i meant for it to happen.
wanted for it so much and it happens.
beat happens. my favorite records.
when i pinch your side and say
how adorable you are.

youre a snowcone with two flavors
mine is blue and yours is purple
with brooklyn birds that chirp, i'll
give you piggie back rides
and hold you down the slide
with the kids that play in fountains
outside their school
and we'll be
riding unicycles made for two

and we'll fly a kite pulled
perfectly by two strings
singing the same song by twin girls
who know all the ways to make you smile.
reading a book over my shoulder
ill pull you close and share my
new kaleidoscope with you
all the lonely one player games
i'll play with you
sharing a sandwhich with extra mustard
one bite for two.
riding unicycles made for two.
LinkLeave a comment

my xiu xiu mix i'm writing to. [Nov. 14th, 2008|10:52 pm]
Rainer Weissenfeld
[Current Music |Ian Curtis Wishlist - Xiu Xiu]

1. yellow raspberry
2. jennifer lopez (the sweet science version)
3. bishop, ca
4. clover
5. dr. troll
6. asleep
7. i luv the valley oh
8. save me save me
9. pox
10. boy soprano
11. 20,000 deaths for eidelyn gonzalez, 20,000 deaths for jamie peterson
12. little panda mcelroy (b)
13. sad redux-o-grapher
14. ale
15. homonculus
16. king earth, king earth
17. ian curtis wishlist
18. the fox & the rabbit
19. ceremony
20. clowne towne
Link2 comments|Leave a comment

center [Nov. 13th, 2008|11:30 pm]
Rainer Weissenfeld
[Current Music |Ca Plane Pour Moi - Sonic Youth]

im stretched too thin between who i am and who i want to be.

and there was a time i remember so distinctly where that bridge was so close i could taste happiness and contentedness. it's been a slow degradation on my part of depression. i remember actively fighting the pain in my head and not allowing it to let me falter. and now that ive been sick and am all better, i feel the time has come to let all the sickness fall away. it's ran its course. done.

im ready to force myself again. in positive ways, without yelling at myself. i shouldnt have to feel like im being hard on myself to accomplish anything. i have so many things to accomplish and feeling shitty all the time by my own mind won't help. i can't lay in bed thinking these terrible thoughts anymore. i can't afford to. i won't.
Link3 comments|Leave a comment

difference between me [Nov. 2nd, 2008|04:01 pm]
Rainer Weissenfeld
i'm going to try to use this thing again because i feel a closing off of myself. I feel like the genuine difference between my younger self and now is that I used to articulate how i felt and for what reasons, and now im overwhelmed by everything and i don't know why.

i want to be freer and less daunted by the life ive chosen for myself. i want to make things happen and wish i still had the courage i used to. i feel as though i definitely lost a lot of self esteem so far as my work ethic and being able to move things for myself. im great with people and partying and selling myself, but right now i feel like i have nothing to sell.


im going to make dream of fire, the original story that my thesis stemmed from. its probably going to be a much longer short, but i want to shoot it on digital.

im also worried about the stories i want to tell, but i hope that they resonate, and i feel that i have that power, if given the chance. you cant force a story within a framework, if it isn't organic within itself because of what it is, it wont be what it was meant to. it wont achieve what it was meant for. and i want so badly to see this thing through.

its a story about happiness, and going through the shit and pain to become a stronger person and what it means to give in to gratification and making stupid decisions for the sake of immediacy.

i jsut want to make something beautiful that i can look at and share and be proud of.

im scared.
Link4 comments|Leave a comment

here goes [Jul. 7th, 2008|02:37 am]
Rainer Weissenfeld
so hopefully by the end of this rant ill know what to do next.

im trying to figure out my placement in my life and where to go next to keep from a stagnating point. ive tried nothing and im all out of ideas - the simpsons.

how do i progress? im involved in an internship now that requires of me a complicated few things that won't pay off for a very long time. i take it seriously but at the same time, not enough. I know what it is to do next, but every step forward feels daunting and overwhelming, but I find that when i just jump in and do it's relaxing and feels right to just be doing work within my chosen field.

and i have a chosen field, i know what it is that i want to do with myself, but getting there seems full of so many different choices, all seeming fruitless that i can't bring myself to take any. but i will, i have to. dear fucking almighty i have to.



do i:

take another internship at a proper production house? and do up my resume again and figure out what was wrong with my cover letters from before and just go for not getting paid until i leave new york.

do i leave new york? my home is feeling less and less necessary for me and what i want, but i can't help but feel maybe l.a. is just an easy way out of a complicated situation. i feel like it will force me to find a job which requires money, because right now im getting by not having to pay rent or my own bills and there i will have to and that responsibility seems necessary and probably will end up feeling just as daunting.

why am i so afraid? it's not of failing, im failing myself now in not doing what i need to be doing because i don't know what that is and i'm afraid of looking back and feeling as though my times been wasted.

im 21 and pathless.

i love writing. i should take my screenplays more seriously, it took me 3 years to finally sit down and write introducing baby b. and in 6 days i had 3 drafts down and submitted it into a film festival. how good it really is i don't know, because i haven't sat down and re-edited it since then. and i feel like an asshole because of it.

i feel like an asshole all the time.

i apply to shit on mandy to no avail since that internship. am i confident in it? yes, i have to be. i've spent too much effort on it not to make it succeed.

should i temp or should i intern?

what other options? talk to vicky more about working at a publishing house. but with all this kids with a more proper english degree, it just makes more sense i don't pursue it. im good at screenplays. i can read the fuck out of one of those. intern at a proper production house. do coverages, read scripts, feel like a part of what i need to be a part of. i feel so helpless. i feel like i'm getting more and more stupid. i never used to use the word get or absolutes in my writing-or ranting for that matter.

i need to write more. i need to stop watching bullshit and start studying again. i like watching movies, because i can understand how i learn from it, i think about it and take note. im going to start keeping a journal with the movies i watch, because i forget what i think about just as quickly as the next scene starts, but when i stopped summer palace to write to my boss about how it pertains to his script, i remember what i articulated and now it's important to the way i think about film.

i want to calm down.

lately when i try to formulate thoughts through reason my mind rushes so quickly i can't keep up and i have to write it down. i'm just so frustrated with myself.

gravity's increased. i feel heavy and nauseous sometimes just at the thought of my current state. i want to do

i fucked around. i bullshitted myself without even realizing it.

what's left to romanticize in the bottom of the rock and looking up at the sky. looking further down still? no.

i'm a far cry from who i want to be. i've been there, it was fantastic, and asserting and confident, and now ruined.

new make.

i was raped.

it's something that happened that feels terrible inside of me almost every day, but i'm not past it. get past. i can see it happening in pockets of blurred ideas and seeing the manhattan bridge all the while. waking up and being kissed. finding my clothes and waiting unable to think about if i was consented or not. seeing my face in reflective glass and realizing i wasn't. feeling stupid for not being able to realize right away. not being able to see a mirror for days from the swelling. drugged a week later at another party and being told by friends later that i was being crazy and probably just blacked out from drinking too much. ive never blacked out, and couldnt have possibly drank enough in that amount of time to warrant it. and i can say it's not my fault, but i dont feel like it. i feel stupid. and weak. horrifically fucking ashamed.

black cloud like term. not over but enveloping me in pockets of doubt and disbelief.

how do i step forward?


if i ever saw him again i'd freeze. i wouldn't know what to do, a part of me thinks i'll get violent to an extent i dont want to be capable of. another part knows id feel helpless to the idea that i put myself in a position with said person and suffered the consequences.
they were not consequences anyone should have to suffer, but they are real and understood. you can't trust strangers. how many of my "friends" are strangers.

i want to get past. not even past but become present. to myself here.

i want to become a person i like again. i dont speak about anything that interests me anymore. and when i do it's angrily about how i have no one to talk about said things with. i read. but just barely, started to again. in pockets of time.

to show for it? the last 5 and half months? an unbearable sadness.

a screenplay. i need to finish editing. so fucking do it. make it top priority along with getting a job. then write another one, but keep writing.

apply to both.

internships and temp agencies and mandy.com and craigslist. just keep at it. what else do you have to do.

stop giving a shit about something someone did to you. DID TO YOU. you did not do to yourself, so don't hate yourself for it. people do shit to you all the time and you can make your feelings about it strong and understood. don't feel confused. it was fucked up and wrong, and not my fault. it was not my fault. i was raped. it was not my fault. but it was. it was not my fault. i was stupid and immature and naive. my face was swollen for 3 days. my ass hurt for a week. it was not my fault.

how does it happen? things like this happen.

there's no lightness. but a sturdy feeling i suppose i can remember and keep safe.

i continue in new york throughout my internship, i apply to more internships and temp work and see what i can manage from there. if nothing bites, keep at it and not feel bad about it. do it.

try it.

i'm afraid of the word try, but i dont leave room for failure but if i dont try i really do fail.



try until you succeed.

with odds like that you have to.

all things eventual.

the future is coming, expect delays. - my bloody valentine.

i want to be the kind of person i want to be. i want to know who that is again.

it's not just painting and kite flying, its romanticizing whats still important to me and living by it to free myself from the world i cannot and will not live in. i will make my own world in each present moment i can with everything that i do and believe in it. i will make my own mind. free of self conflicting doubts that ruin me. i will make myself new. i will do what i have to. i will be free.

i feel better, but not nearly what i hoped. but isn't that life? getting better each time, ya?

post/don't post.

Link5 comments|Leave a comment

[ viewing | most recent entries ]
[ go | earlier ]