9.29.2007

my life is peppered with a series of insubstantial, seemingly innocuous landmarks.
souvenirs. cigarettes, addresses. jewelery. small things. harmless things.
what is not harmless is these things keep turning up in the cyclical patterns of my dysfunctional loving, and it makes me wonder if this phenomenon is unique to me, or if it happens to everyone and i'm just the only one who notices.

9.26.2007

right now

i'm having about eighteen love affairs
inside my head

9.24.2007

i've started hallucinating the sound of my cell phone receiving text messages.
yep. insanity.
self-destruction.

9.20.2007

was it only last night?

one of these days i really am going to get hit by a car.
i was almost blindsided by a red pickup while crossing rockland on my way home from class.
i was crying over phyllis webb's naked poems :

The sun comes through
plum curtains.

I said
the sun is gold
in your eyes.

It isn't the sun
you said.

9.19.2007

avalon

i have been good,
so i decided to treat myself to partly
skimmed cow's milk
in a glass bottle.
it is so good.

9.18.2007

dear workshop,

i am so fucked.

9.16.2007

things seem so much brighter on the other side.

i love how my workload this semester consists entirely of
looking at art
reading novels
reading poetry
writing poetry.
this makes for lovely quiet sunday afternoons.
tea
down
flannel
and all this rain.

9.15.2007

OK.

i don't know how it's only the middle of september and i'm already debauching harder than i did last year.
this isn't really how it was supposed to go,
but being drunk is really amusing
when i'm not vomiting.

9.10.2007

reality chex

dear chelsea,
this is what
busy
feels like.
remember?
yeah i bet you do.
love,
chelsea
ps. it's not so bad though, right?
haven't you noticed that all this running around has melted
the fat like butter off the sides of your thighs?

9.07.2007

the predatory wasp of the palisades is out to get us!

hormones are aggravating my sad ovary.
i sort of feel like everyone on planet earth is glaring at me
even though i know this isn't true.
i sort of feel homesick. though i don't know for what.
homesick for safety. for quiet.
for nothing. a dark shroud
on the heart.
there are days i think i've made no progress since high school.
today is one of them.
this, too, i know is not true. but it's so hard to remember.
estrogen makes everything so hard.

9.04.2007

eternal sunshine

i want to smudge the whole city.
i want a spotless mind.

9.03.2007

on the floor at the great divide

these last days before class
i am using tea and fireweed honey
and the l word to dull the profound
sense of loss that comes
part and parcel with four months of useless anticipation
and it's working.
i vaguely recall a tarot reading from last week sometime
that predicted my selfish ambitions
were about to come to naught and
honestly, i should have known.
i should have known better.

9.01.2007

you can catch up on your sleep when i'm gone.

chels hotel still feels like chels hotel.
i just smudged it anyway.
cleared all the old energy out.
told the ghost it wasn't him i was trying to get rid of.
i feel like i say this a lot, but i feel like
i'm operating on several planes simultaneously.
but now, already, i can feel my body syncing
with real time again,
with the third dimension.
i am shifting.
things are shifting.
provincial shifts.
pronoun shifts.
that's all.
c'est ne problème pas.