here we are now on this beautiful mountain with such a view
it’s a confirmation of the investment i’ve made for myself
i never wanted to be underground
when people carry around a lot of shame i know instantly
there are just no others who
right now i dwell a bit on duality
there are piles of toy baby doll carcasses scattered on the ground, and my tatto shows slightly above my underwear.
there is longing which echoes throughout.
but she really says it all so much better.
I haven’t met little Adatrix yet but I’m already in love with her.
So, my sister, sometimes known as Evie P., just had a baby girl! This morning, sitting in her wading pool in the living room, screaming at those in sight, she pushed my new niece out into the world. (Along with a few little poos…) So let’s all raise a glass to Adelaide or “Ada” for short. Woot!
i suppose lady luck has lead me here.
it is hard to challenge my own biases. i judge others for their judgement of shit, and then i sit here and roll my eyes while i am talking to her or him. i am so good during the day, open-minded and user-friendly. but then i get home and sequestered in the comfortable cloudy life i lead and think–what the fuck are these people thinking? who cares? pour another round!
and then i worry about the growing gut. well, so it goes and whatever but i must pay or at least play with the piper for a spell (in the spirit of penance).
I spent the past four days visiting my family. I usually don’t leave them feeling such a glow, but tonight I actually feel like I am a product of my past.
So my former home has lots of bugs, stars, and allergens. And it holds memories. I saw my brother and my grandfather. Meaningfully. I visited sister and brother-in-law. Touched will-be niece. Helped Bunny clean up a bit. And finally began to feel that this all holds some elements that developed my conciousness. The farm my parents rent may actually belong to them, and so to me. This mishmash of greens and cicada buzz will now begin to sing my song.
Oh, and I drank some, and had some FUCKED UP dreams. Some kind of school stuff, some based in television, and one sexual-centered dream that would have Freud creaming in his pants. Oh well. I’m home now. Which also seems a bit more grounded.
Overall, a good trip. One for the books. (My own?)
Just a little shout out to IdioLector, whose many street scenes are helping me create a new look for my blog. He takes daily walks and finds those things that you wish you would. Sometimes I borrow them. Them to him to me to you. Or, probably just to me. But, nonetheless…
I tucked Tony in to bed and began to read a book. Neither of these are really important moments, but taken together they help me feel like I am a modest success.
I have been sequestered for many many hours in this apartment, indulging in modernist classics and mild html-codes. My eyes are becoming blurry and my head would like a late-night spirit. There is still plenty of time for me to continue “working” before I sleep, but this suddenly seems rather distasteful. The ceiling fan is humming silently.
Beginning in college I always felt overcome when I read, and I would begin to talk to myself in reminiscent rhythms of the most recent author’s words. Images would/do find themselves lodged and begging to be released. But they are not my own. And yet, after I stifle them a bit they eventually surface in my own idiosyncratic fashion. This is why I keep reading.
Waging a doubtful battle with the shade,
how should I begin
Suddenly there was a lack where before there had been nothing at all. It’s only in the contrast that life begins to take its form. Shadows help us to see the places light has been.
consensual enjambment licensed release.
similar partical lazily supercede.
insouciant tremor remarks corrupt.
pestulant theory yawning genuine.
neglect has a presence. that extreme feeling of need
that i can’t ignore
i begin to fear i am not actually here.
corrupting nuptials illuminate fragrance
withdrawn teetering vacant beatitude
icing gruesome mobile balustrade
however reticent grows suicide.
Is it possible to cease if you do not exist? This sounds a bit like falling trees in an empty wood, to be sure, but it may well illuminate the secret of bending spoons.
endeavor end ever in die verse
Me and Mr. Jones 