the room got heavy
Finally, new intern! The last one was a girl who was very pretty and knew it and at some point in time was given the impression that she also knew other things- grave misunderstanding. New intern is short, floppy-haired, likes neo-folk, wears obscure t-shirts that convey his love of things well-designed. Improvement.
Sometimes I want to crease my edges into one of the paper cranes I used to make, into one of the paper cranes Sienna still makes from gum wrappers, into a paper plane. Throw the it that would then be me. Watch it rest on currents of air, watch it settle down a few feet away. Contract into a ball of silly putty, or carpet fuzz, or one of those flecks of rubber that turns up inside my shoes every time I walk across Lincoln field. To be zippered snugly into an insulated lunchbox or tucked into my own front left pocket. To be a pink rubber eraser and to shrink with each struggling correction. Or, to be a single word, lines and curves collected and broken. I would like to be tiny, to trip over single blades of grass, to fall down insect staircases made of soil and maybe stay at the bottom until some shifting or rotation made me rise or sink. Do any of you get that intense wish to break out of the sphere of human action and feel every particle moving in a completely new way? No, not a rhetorical question. Do you hold yourself still and imagine the sensation of becoming a paperclip or a spatula or whatever it may be?
There is an obese hedgehog living in my backyard.
Sometimes I want to crease my edges into one of the paper cranes I used to make, into one of the paper cranes Sienna still makes from gum wrappers, into a paper plane. Throw the it that would then be me. Watch it rest on currents of air, watch it settle down a few feet away. Contract into a ball of silly putty, or carpet fuzz, or one of those flecks of rubber that turns up inside my shoes every time I walk across Lincoln field. To be zippered snugly into an insulated lunchbox or tucked into my own front left pocket. To be a pink rubber eraser and to shrink with each struggling correction. Or, to be a single word, lines and curves collected and broken. I would like to be tiny, to trip over single blades of grass, to fall down insect staircases made of soil and maybe stay at the bottom until some shifting or rotation made me rise or sink. Do any of you get that intense wish to break out of the sphere of human action and feel every particle moving in a completely new way? No, not a rhetorical question. Do you hold yourself still and imagine the sensation of becoming a paperclip or a spatula or whatever it may be?
There is an obese hedgehog living in my backyard.