One night to be confused

Cold War Kids - Louder Than Ever (Live At Third Man)

the place where the medicine isn't

out of medicine for about a week. Wow this feels pretty wretched. Prozac-less dreams. "head full of pesticide." Charlie Chaplin films stream on netflix.  We check our phones too much...no one is ever there, on mine at least.  Mid summer mardi gras. Like, these people can't get enough, for real. No floats not many cops, just happy drunks in feathers and masks and giant tedious handmade costumes. paper mache and felt and fabric and god only knows what else. Malibu rum. a lot of it, too.  Withdrawing from this pill makes me feel very blank but obviously i am talking quite a bit. and laughing and stumbling. this is me having a Good Time. I dont know where we are going or who these people even are.

art. this is something i may should recover from. painting earlier, paint everywhere. the doorknob, the phone, my glasses. jesus leave me alone. school starts wednesday. the bathtub is broken. pretty sure i didnt pay the electric bill. Well you get one shot at this and you get to do it all alone. and don't forget that, doll. not for a second.

If I could ride out to the lake on a bike on a cool autumn day I would. I would look for you, but you wouldnt be there. You are in another city with another family with another woman with a child. with a picnic or maybe just a book. just you and a book. the birds make a cry a little bit. I hate putting gas in a the car, christ do i hate it. but this day there wouldnt be any of that nonsense, just me and a camera. and some big eyes in my face to soak up the world. you dont get it for long, though. you get some "moments' and everyone is so okay with that. Living for some moment I already lived for. like, twenty times. i m going to make a monument to this moment, though. im going to make it out of digital dots and styrofoam. something that will last. not like diesel fuel. like love. this imaginary day, like the scar on my stomach, will always be there, so i wont forget where you are not, and where i wont ever be. Sometimes you have to just embrace the negative space, and curl up next to it, and be okay with it.

Day 3

3rd sad day. Red eyed and blue. I am fine. just like always. I dont have the guts it takes to disappear from view. I guess it will just be this way for a while, until the pendulum swings or the clocks in my belly tick forward or the glass breaks or the moon changes phases and eventually I will forget.

So i was standing on the edge of a grave and I was alone and the hole was for 97 years of life and the sun was real hot and i put my arm around my sister bc i wanted someone to touch me and no one did. her eyes are so blue, she looked at me. she told me to be still. there was a prayer and stuff.

We giggle like little girls over the food, country food...and at our cousins ....those people you only see at events in sterile rooms with lots of metal folding chairs.

Eventually we all get stunned by how not fun life can get i suppose.

I am glad answering machines aren't around much anymore. i hated that blinking 0.

Lonely is as Lonely does

Lonely is an eyesore

Rogue Wave - Lake Michigan

Null

So you guys can be articulate and smart all you want but I am here for the beer. And don't ask me about books because i never read one and don't ask me about art bc i never saw any. I went to sleep, i went to work. I dont want to say things eloquently or have my life arranged in a pretty neat row. I did before, but now I don't. I do not want to be thin or healthy or wise or fast. I don't want to love you, either. I also want to stop saying 'I.' Forever. the end.

I am aging without sound

Baby Picture

It's in the heart of the grape where that smile lies. It's in the good-bye-bow in the hair where that smile lies. It's in the clerical collar of the dress where that smile lies. What smile? The smile of my seventh year, caught here in the painted photograph. It's peeling now, age has got it, a kind of cancer of the background and also in the assorted features. It's like a rotten flag or a vegetable from the refrigerator, pocked with mold. I am aging without sound, into darkness, darkness. Anne, who are you? I open the vein and my blood rings like roller skates. I open the mouth and my teeth are an angry army. I open the eyes and they go sick like dogs with what they have seen. I open the hair and it falls apart like dust balls. I open the dress and I see a child bent on a toilet seat. I crouch there, sitting dumbly pushing the enemas out like ice cream, letting the whole brown world turn into sweets. Anne, who are you? Merely a kid keeping alive  - Anne Sexton I love her poetry, probably too much if such a thing can exist....if you can actually love poetry too much. Her poetry is the first thing i read that actually made sense, made sense like the bible makes sense to some people. LIke, Oh i get it, i believe in it,bc i already know it is true.  Surely it comes from a place of self absorption...i mean, clearly i love her work bc i relate to it. i relate to it in all its sickness and filth and beauty. and awkward subjects and rejection and...no one wants to hear this side of it all. this side of life. the side that some of us can't escape from. Oh well. I m on vacation. I left Louisiana for Michigan for a week. Why does nothing ever feel like relief? I will say I do love that lake..really and truly with much of a passion... i connect with nature in a way that is uncanny..even to me... in a way that surprises me when it happens. What else is there to connect to?