my only vice

87. There are six degrees of separation between you and every other person on this planet. Be kind and rewind.

how itchy i am

Love is a shadow.
How you lie and cry after it.
Listen: these are its hooves: it has gone off, like a horse.

All night I shall gallup thus, impetuously,
Till your head is a stone, your pillow a little turf,
Echoing, echoing.

~ excerpt from Elm by Sylvia Plath

this is, after all, a journal

Right now I am watching the History Channel, eating Reese's Pieces and drinking apple juice, and waiting for my eczema (now over both arms, hips and the back of my knees) to stop itching. I wish it were sunny out so that I could go kayaking or fishing, but it's not. I may work on some writing or play guitar...neither of which I can do very well.

I'm not looking forward to the rest of the week. Thursday I have a not-so-fun doctor's appointment and Friday I have to get a few fillings at the dentist's office. Woohoo...

I want to be buried in a biodegradable cemetary. A place that looks like a park instead of a city of tombstones. Wrapped in a shroud and placed in the Earth to turn into soil and plants.

you're standing on the toilet?

Today, under the impression of my most fluent muse, I realized that my prose was actually poetry and spent some time translating. And then I wrote a second poem on top of that, which poured out of my fingers like wine and probably gave me carpal tunnel.

I am glad I'm not single. I'm also glad that it's raining. Neither of which have anything to do with anything.

elegy

Excerpt from The Fifth Elegy (for Frau Hertha Koenig) by Rainer Maria Rilke.

Angel, there's a place beyond us, and there
on the unsayable carpet, lovers display what now
they can never bring up to knowing - their bold
high figures of heartplay, their
long-since groundless ladders, leaning
on only each other, tremulously, - and know
before the surrounding onlookers, innumerable soundless deaths.
Who then throws their last, ever-hoarded,
ever-concealed, unknown, eternally
valid coins of luck before the finally
truly-smiling pair on the stilled
carpet?

Goodnight Mr. Gingercat. (You're a goddamned whore!)

88. The trouble is, bad things happen to good people. Question yourself: Am I a good person? If the answer is yes, then bad things will most likely happen to you. Example: Today I got sunburn AND a mosquito bite. Damn!

i hate the word moist

89. You will not remember anything important you said for future reference, but you will remember the last time you got really drunk. Moral of the story? Write much, drink little.

Read: Cartographies of Silence by Adrienne Rich.