My patently false belief that if only there was a place to get a cup of coffee at 4 AM in this town, everything would be okay.
I’ve wanted to believe for a long time that thinness means nothing. But it does mean something. Thinness means architecture. Thinness means something beyond what is touchable. You can touch a round girl because she is human. Thinness is myth the way architecture is myth. And it is for this reason and no other,
Today I woke up crying because Chelsea is moving on Monday. Brewed the coffee weak, and cried all through that, too.
So often I quote five words from Ouspenski: “Art is the communication of...– Ted Shawn as interviewed by Elinor Rogosin, from The Dance Makers
The revelation of my body as something beyond it’s sexuality, or perhaps growing to encompass more than the obvious things I identify as sexuality, is extraordinary. My rage is placated in intense physicality. Craves that outlet of streaming sweat. When I see my face in the mirror as I use my body I see the face of Scoprio :: the face of Mars and Pluto. Onyx helmet and blood-male eyes. The...
math for poets: “fuck you, pay me.– Anatomy of a Dress
The plot thickens.
The body can never look like an abstraction.– The Art of Making Dances, Doris Humphrey
1. Reading in Stockton tonight. 2. My father suggests I take a gun. 3. Yesterday, the irony of how she used her body against mine. 4. I was filled with loathing and so I stayed still. 5. Because I am gathering information about the magnetism.
Walk in the first rain of the season last night with C. It was dark by the time we really got going. I took us down the American River Bike Trail. There is an almond factory toward the beginning of the trail. The lights from the factory stained the landscape a future yellow. Watched the homeless pissing. Counted tents. When we crossed the bridge we turned around. I was soaked and cold but I liked...
Yesterday was horrible. The horrible things started early and kept going all day. I don’t want to write them all down. But here is what I started and ended with: STARTED: There is a transient named Linda who sleeps on our porch. Often. For months. At first she would leave when asked. Then she started cursing us out and spitting on us. Threats of being sprayed with a hose or maced were mild...
Those long crying walks home.
Extraordinarily internal but avoiding conversing with the internal; oft traversed country that requires no commentary. Reading Pynchon is inducing restless sleep. Even so I sleep a great deal. It is easy to steal from grocery stores. K and I go in with our reusable grocery bags and fill them up and walk out. Beautiful foods. Shrimp. Eggplant. Nectarines. Have been avoiding the Knowing feelings....
The serenity of a closed and locked door. The motivating force is always larger than the sum of its parts.