well,
today my card is
the wheel of fortune
and what can i say except
my my.

good people,
i am, once more,
a florist.

in other words, i'm growing?
in other words, last night was a strange night.

only to be accompanied by strange dreams.

there were a lot of people in the room.
most of them were my parents and parents of my friends.
which never happens in real life.
however, there was a lot of bickering among them, which seems a little more likely.
all of a sudden, i interrupted the conversation by saying,
look everyone! two peacocks
are climbing onto the roof!

and sure enough, there were two enormous peacocks
peacocking around.

if they don't fight eachother,
i said, let's all try to get along, ok?
and if they do fight,
let's try harder.
to get along.

is mercury in retrograde yet, or what?

well, here we are.
clear light, people.
twenty twenty.

that's an hour and a half more sun
since march
twenty-first.
you know, just in case
you were wondering.

the chestnut tree outside my house has opened, too, finally.
it's leaves slung down from husks. hand prints splotched all over
the sky.

kindergarten.

you don't get those years back,
they say.
you just don't.
did you use them wisely?
well, i don't know.
let's take inventory.

"don juan said that the nagual elias assured him that the spirit only listened when the speaker speaks in gestures. and gestures do not mean signs or body movements, but acts of true abandon, acts of largesse, of humor. as a gesture for the spirit, sorcerers bring out the best of themselves and silently offer it to the abstract."

"he reminded me that he had taught me how warriors acted in such situations. they did their utmost, and then, without any remorse or regrets, they relaxed and let the spirit decide the outcome."

and i'm sitting here
at twenty thirty-nine
and the only thing i can tell my self is, CHELsea RUSHton.
DO NOT drink one litre
of orangina.
do NOT.

which reminds me of this thing i wrote in my book over winter break:
i wish i could drink a litre of egg nog.

MY MOM BOUGHT 2 LITRES OF EGG NOG

and from september:
my superego runs a pretty tight ship.
the id just got sloshed with mop water.

what can i say about cycles.
four months. another trimester,
right?
and it's funny that these are the things i find i've noted down when i go looking for patterns.
it's funny that so little is actually said about
feelings because in this family
so little is said and
there's no going back and
nothing can be done

but these are the times i remember, you know,
when i circle back around.
when i take inventory.
these are the times i'll remember when i think about
university.
and i think about myself in ten years marvelling that these were never actually the times
that something happened. they were the times,
afterward, that i realized it, that i had to stop
and figure out what to do next.

the rest is just too impossible to decipher.
ten puzzles
jumbled together.

it's probably also worth noting that right now, every lamp in my house is
on.

AGH god go figure
today i have the death card.

some funny things were said today:

i mean, what is it?
clog? alligator? space ship?
who can say?
- scr, to me

ok, like, if i were to write a quest testion--
-me, to myself

in other news.
the sun is out.
i have nothing to do except
enjoy this.
i got a new coffee table book
called
sex in history.
the tulips have become
arousing. all blown
open. georgia o'keeffe was
really onto something.
i'm thinking in
words
again.

i've had trouble these last days.
writing. concentrating on any one thing
at a time. finishing what i start.
meals, projects, etcetera.
sentences.
this is the second saturday in a row i'll be
in bed by ten thirty, but tonight
i'm not sad about it.

i'm having some funny insights about solitude,
about hermitude. and this morning i said
ok, chelsea.
that does it. you are leaving the house
right now, and you are staying out
all day.
on my way to the sea i found a copy of sophie's world at a yard sale for a dollar
and i bought it and i did indeed stay out and all day i had to carry it in my hand
because it wouldn't fit in my purse.
it's a good book. a heavy book. and warm. worn.
there's a little writing in it, even.
already i'm almost a quarter of the way thru and when i get into bed i will keep reading.
i'm on the chapter all about
aristotle.

well, it finally happened.
the dream.
funny that this time
there was no turmoil.
funny too that it didn't happen until now,
now that it's over.
the cigarettes snuffed out.
fitting.
but it's not over, not really.
after all, those cigarettes
still got smoked.

dear universe,
i'm sick again and my printer still isn't working?
and today i'm stuck with the hierophant?
what's going ON here?
have i failed you in some way?
are you testing my temper?
(this is right around the part where my mother always says
i love you even when i'm angry
and then starts yelling).
i love you, universe, but i'm not angry.
i'm just scared.
you know how i feel about flux time, so
help me out here.
jah?
always,
chelsea

a funny little day, this one
of the sun. switched my rings
around again and the world
gave me exactly what i needed.
i hope only that i reciprocated sufficiently.

i'm going to be in bed by ten thirty tonight.
on a saturday
saturn day.
i don't remember the last time this happened.
a long time ago.
maybe i'll read the power of silence until the end.
maybe i'll listen to the elohim tape.
maybe i'll fall into a deep sleep.

my pashmina smells like beer and cigarettes.
everything i own smells like beer and cigarettes, it seems.
tonight i took a shower.
i don't remember the last time i took a night shower either.
and when i got out i just felt so
clean, and i changed into fresh leggings and my
safe sweater.
it's this old non-colour beige long john type thing that my dad wore on ski trips
before i was born, before he was too busy
for ski trips. sometimes i marvel that everything i wrap myself up in when i'm cold and lonely once belonged to my father.
the red plaid boxers. the geomarine tshirt. the winter vest, the sunglasses.
i don't own any clothing that ever belonged to my mother.
i marvel at that, too.

brit just called and i turned down her invitation to lucky bar.
my soul will be there, i said.
i also turned down sarah's goodbye party
and for what?
for bon iver. for self portraits. for robert niles and carlos castaneda and the empty loft and the silence and the sadness stirred up in me and the salt lamp,
that only lonely heart, glowing.

i'm so tired of this, but it's not over.
it's never over.
the circles keep turning and the light keeps burning
until it goes out.

something is going on. my subconscious
has me under house arrest?
i would like to know the meaning of this
please. this stocking up. the groceries,
the laundry. i was in the worst mood this morning
at having to go to campus, and since returning
i haven't moved off the lot.

dear chelsea,
go outside.

no.

i said, go outside.

fine. but only for a
cigarette.

it's not so bad, i guess. vancouver street
is pretty funny at three o'clock.
i just saw some guy drive a harley on the sidewalk.
bad. ass.

but i want to drive a harley on the sidewalk too.
screaming down the mountain.
all the way to the
bottom, of the road, the bottom
of the bluffs, to the bottom of the
s
e
a

an amusing observation, perhaps:
laundry day is the only event to which
i do not wear black.

because there's none left to wear.
that's why.
that's when i know it's laundry time.

and since when do i own five pairs of black leggings, anyway?
who do i think i am, anyway?
what exactly am i doing round these parts

nosing around in the poison ivy and when,
when exactly do i plan on leaving.

nevertheless. here i am,
bed made, towels changed, wearing
black leggings black slippers shirt beret
headphones with a rainbow project in my brain,

rainbow pash around my
heart and i'm having a nice day,
face stuck in the underbrush,
thanks for asking.

all i've done today is
smoke cigarettes
play guitar
turn around in circles.

this is a time for action but i'm just having trouble
deciding.

o, here come
the calluses.
i'm learning a lot about the world right now.
i love april this year.

ok.
sometimes rationalization is so beside the point.
a lot of funny things are happening to me
all in a row.

o spring,
you have come at last.
and you've brought in your wake
my biannual nose drip.
but no matter.
i am so thankful.
allofasudden
the chestnut tree outside my window has all its luscious buds on
and the fruit trees wear their best dresses.
i am trying to prepare for your changes. i promise
i'm trying to stay centred in your winds. but i have to tell you:
even though your sun is out twelve hours a day,
i am having a dark time. all i ask is that
you take me through it
to the light.
love,
chelsea

o GODDDD.
this weather.
is so depressing.
i've been here four years, i said.
and i still can't handle three days of rain.
o i know, she said. take you to the sun?
take me to the sunnnn, i said.

in my heart i am a happy cat
and i know this is all dandy for the plant life,
but this just makes me cry and cry.