Tuesday, January 20, 2009

It's not always briliant. Sometimes it looks like this:

Here's where I stand, here's where I stand to affect a bigger change, and here, then is my change. Nothing revolves, repeats, or is that revolutionary. This is not my coffee shop, this is not my tide, this is not my nagging colon, this is not, simply.

Exodus - Exit Us:
This is not simply put, this is not some hole, or whole, or gaping completion or otherwise ineffective prefixes. Regardless, it could not then be youth, or even something comparably tender.

Through Chapter 15:
I keep reading without saying anything out loud and I keep writing for an equally silent audience. Today I said it comes from a different place than speaking. One does not substitute the other. They are not complimentary, parallel, or even paradoxical. I will say I don't want to say these things out loud, and through my cryptic writing, I have a very public way of working out something private, while keeping it private. Today I thought I was brilliant, and follow suit.

Monday, January 5, 2009

Turns out, I care.

I am anxious. I am anxious about school because I didn't spend any time being anxious about it before classes actually started.

I am anxious about Ross and how my family is going to cope with the current news. It's not what we originally thought, not nearly as bad, but it is something we weren't prepared for and somehow, it seems worse.

I drank a beer and it put me to sleep immediately. I woke up an hour later to too little too late, to text messages, to low blood sugar. I made couscous and tried to substitute almond milk for chicken broth because I didn't have chicken broth and water never seems to work. I ruined couscous. Can you imagine? I made stir-fry. It didn't turn out as wonderful as I had hoped, but I grated parmesan over it and somehow that saved it. Still, stir-fry hurts my stomach.

I am standing up on my own and writing to an invisible audience. Being unrelenting is lonely, but I think I must do it on purpose.

Saturday, January 3, 2009

Guess where I was when I wrote this:

I am somewhere in between –

Ode to our drunk, coked/out “youth” in line for dirty bathrooms 
and the 30-year-old sophisticates still riding high on bicycles. 
I am fooled, I am foolish.

Through thick and through thin.

Lately all I can eat is spinach. Lately all I cannot be is a drunk. That is a lie. There are so many resolutions to be had, and all of them about me do not alleviate the confounding guilt I feel for attempting selfishness.

So I stick around, there is no new news.