i have been forgiven.
yesterday she waited for me and we rode home together.
today we took the bus because it was raining.
it rained.
i flipped my calendar.
next year i'm going to get a herbert siebner calendar.
o this is hard.
writing for you people is hard.
there is so much you don't know. won't.
can't.

Sun shield.

Sun shield.
Originally uploaded by SunSirrah.

um, yeah.
i'm back.

; however,
this is getting redundant.

update:

yoga
drawings
bike rides
bc cherries.
love,
chelsea

ask and it shall be yours
says the universe?
what?
georgia nichols says that this is the only time
the sun is opposite my sign
all year.
as a result
everyone thinks i'm awesome.
that's what the horiscope said.
and it's kind of true. it's manifesting itself
in small ways. at work, mostly,
but also at times like these...
and mostly it just means more responsibilities,
more deadlines, more arbitrary blue boxes
on the summer work plan
excel spreadsheet.
but at times like these it means
me, high and
alone
in my apartment with nothing
to do except get
distracted from this blog post
a hundred times
by poems

dear universe,
this was fun.
can we stop playing games now?
you know what i meant
when i said
someone.
love,
chelsea

ok.
victory?
still no writing
but i had so many revelations
i thought my heart was going to stop beating.
the universe always has my back
and my life, today, makes
so many kinds
of sense.

in my life right now
there is too much fighting
and not enough writing.
i need to find some grass
and rummage up a copy of three six five yoga
and let misha look into my soul
and get my ass in gear with this pantoum.
my life is all about going somewhere
and nowhere at the same time.
why is this so difficult?
pressing questions.
i want to see you, you know.
i miss you but i don't know what you expect
me to say because we both know you already
have the upper hand.
i want to draw a mustache on my desk mannequin.
i just drew a mustache on my desk mannequin
and it was really gratifying.
i'll do the rest of the face later.
right now, with no context, it looks like quotation
marks, like two beluga whales kissing.
it looks like it's twitching.
will this desk mannequin be a man or a woman?
pressing questions.
where are you?
pressing questions.
will he call?
will i ever have fun at the office again?
will i finish this head of lettuce before it rots on the top shelf of my fridge?
pressing questions.

(i'm going soft)

wisdom tells me i am nothing.
love tells me i am everything.
and between the two my life flows.
-sri nisargadatta maharaj

lost my tuna today.
mental health afternoon.
misha yoga.
filmz.
candied salmon avacado salad.
the end.

yesterday was a year since the spine surgery.
i only remembered this afternoon, while i hung
morrisseau paintings and made everyone listen
to the say you love jesus cd,
which reminds me of the volvo, of mcleod trail,
fanny's fabrics. the fire. the foothills.
o, they're funny little revolutions we've turned
since then. lopsided circles around these suns
of shifting and shifting gravitational importance.
and it's just funny, evaluating everyone's wobbling progress.
it's just funny.
i go to calgary in two weeks and i can't fucking wait.
(i honestly never thought i'd say that)

o god.
it came out of nowhere and here we are.

i was never a really huge fan of sex and the city,
but there was one episode in which miranda called her favorite chinese takeaway restaurant one time too many and she didn't even have to give them her order because they knew it by heart, and this sent her into a downward spiral of depression because it made her realize the tragic loneliness of her life.

i just had this moment
and i am so fucking depressed.

it happened today.
i woke up this morning and thought to myself,
chelsea, you have to do something more productive
than get wasted on vodka at eight o'clock,
so i ripped up the carpets.
all three hideous layers.
it went surprisingly quickly, considering.
and now my apartment is in order once more
and i have a sore back to show for
all this beautiful hardwood.
honestly.
who wanted to cover this up?
my mom called while i was scraping away
at a few belligerent scraps of sub-flooring
and when i told her what i was doing, she said
o my god! this is a dream come true for you!
and i said
i know. i know.
i don't know where all that energy came from
but i'm not asking because this needed to happen.
yesterday my horiscope told me it's time
to start making quiet arrangements to enter a new cycle in my life.
and now i'm listening to cheesy yoga music
and i just spent ten minutes in heartbed to lengthen my spine,
and here we are.
my dad will be so proud when he finds out.
his first-born child willfully doing home improvement!
imagine!
someone put me on an episode of this old house.
srsly.

came home from the office today
wasted
barely five o'clock
on don de dieu.
said to marlaina outside the ministry
christ almighty
champlain must have been drunk
all the time.
are you really that drunk?
she asked.
and i said
it's a wonder this bike and i
are still upright.

dear chelsea,
here begins your steady downward trajectory
into alcoholism.
how do you feel about that?
(i don't know)
well you'd better figure it out
before you do anything with the bottle
of silent sam in your shoulder bag.
(i know
i know i need to do something
i know i need to get to the bottom of this
to the root of it
but this goes so much deeper
than what's planted)

it's been weeks now and maybe this will sound melodramatic
or dumb, or something, but i'm starting to think that last time
was the last time
and that's sad
if only because i don't even remember it.
and now maybe the absence will stay empty
because i can't get it back
and i can't get it back because
it's not being given and besides
taking is a fight and
i am so tired of fighting.

i need to go to yoga.
i need to go to sleep.
i need to pull up the carpets in this apartment
because god knows how much stale energy they're storing.
i need to lie on the hardwood with this thin slice of chrysoprase
on my ribs and i need to meditate
because it's high time i got serious and grew
into my own wounds.

you channel other people's pain, you know that nate?
i know. my father said it was a gift.
it is a gift.

she said,
hold, too, the parts of your body
you consider to be flawed.
these parts are where the light
gets in and out.