I used to have so much to say for myself. It seems that is not the case so much these days…or that the way of expression, creating every day has trickled into other avenues. Perhaps I can crawl back into this warm, comforting place. It always is a shelter when I have little else to grasp. Yet I’ve come to peace with the greater conflicts in my ( Read more... )

I awoke to Allen Guinsberg recitations in my head…an echo of my girlhood. America and it’s wooblies, Howling in madness about destruction, disintegration. In my dreams now I am forever pawing through piles of items, selecting for myself. It used to be that I wandered around endlessly; now I sort. It’s quite possible I have written of this ( Read more... )

Rough Valentines Day, never even considered that before. It's like I carry around my career, my school, and my life all in the same little satchel although it feels mighty heavy. There are ghosts living in my mouth. Lorena expands and I shrink, counting and seeing all the ribs front to back. I wish I could play music on them. I'm glad he has a ( Read more... )

Wish someone (anyone) would pick up their phone and distract me with their lives. I don't like to talk. Kera tells me I am going through hell. It's hard to hear the truth isn't it? She says I'm unlikely to find love too. She means it as a compliment but it's hard to swallow something like that. Swallowing I haven't done. Completely put off food. ( Read more... )

All I can hear is the windchimes. Orange and white and the fruit flies are swallowing us all.

Kitty sandpaper tongue. Pets so do essentially make a home. I should have never renewed my lease. I would have been happy in that small old place near downtown. The one with the huge diamond dust mirror in the living room. Even though the person I would be renting it from was essentially crazy. Counting downs the days and months until so many other ( Read more... )

Should have saved my long since dead fiance's letters instead of incinerating them when he died. I want to get a tattoo and it would have been nice to do it in the font of his handwriting although that may seem a bit creepy or romantic depending on how you view it. Nevermind I'll just use my grandmothers' lettering instead.

The worst of it all is feeling like you are perpetuating this pattern, that the same things are happening just veiled slightly differently and although you may try to react differently you are not. You are incorrect. There's this awful desperation of being trapped, this kind of sick futility. I felt like that had changed but perhaps...

In that half whisp drift of sleep something yelled at me to do NanoWrtiMo again. No bother that I have no time to even sleep or go to the gym although I've been cutting back on sleep and running two hours almost every day to keep sanity. So after reading a piece about angels to my client, (someone left on her desk yesterday) I am taking this ( Read more... )

There is a special kind of beauty in anonymous generosity ( Read more... )