2003-12-11
aie. i tried, really.
earson:
eyeson:
thoughton:
everybody has a ghost who sings like you do.
and, for the chicken: so many selves(so many fiends and gods each greedier than every)is a man ..
i had some fridge poetry for you, too, but i forgot to write it down before i left the house. i promise to bring it tomorrow.
dinner: savory chicken and cheese sandwich. yay again, payday! vanilla chai.
admissions: 2 or 3.
my baby had an oceanic day .. which translates to lots of hugs, kisses, and goodness for me. waves of joy, as they say. as opposed to the pools. we all know what's in the pools.
the ground is covered in a blanket of dirty, filthy, wet, melting, cellulite puckered snow. it's raining and tonight it might thunderstorm .. i appreciate the randomness of the weather. keeps me on my toes. i never know whether to bring my umbrella or wear sunblock on my nose.
i remember when i could sleep fifteen hours and dream about nothing. i was oblivious to my late teenage years - i went to school, waited for it to be over .. then i went home and i closed my eyes and i waited the night out, too.
nowadays i have trouble .. the daily event menagarie prances in my head, braying and stomping and trilling and hooting and clicking dolphin clicks .. when i rest it's rest-less, my lips covered over in maroon cover-let. and during the day i stand at my fridge while the baby hums over her yogurt and i make little songs .. i call my tax man and i discuss how much i can soak the government for, i take my phone off of the hook so that none of those money grubbing assholes from the credit card companies i owe can hit me up for more pennies. soak. grubbing. grubby soaked snow.
6am: alarm.
6.15: car.
6.25: treadmill.
6.55: sit-ups.
6.56: more sit-ups.
7.00: arm curls. bored yet? me too.
7.10: coat inspired by the old sitcom beauty and the beast, sweaty bandana, car again.
7.20: baby at daycare, missed her the moment i saw her.
7.30: car.
7.40: grocery store and a cart - the front of which looks like a little tykes car, which zoe dies for. we have to leave the cinnamon rolls and christmas syrup behind for a loaf of bread and spaghetti sauce. heh!
8.15: car again. i hate and love that car, as i hate and love myself.
8.30: home. unloading, baby milk, baby situating.
8.55: after baby breakfast, baby nap.
9am-11am: did my nails. called the tax man. lit some candles. did some dishes. found some make-up. made a list of things to do with tax money and hey! that reminds me, i have *real* news.
i was accepted to johnson state! [prance.] i told my mother when she came over with leftover turkey (in and of itself super boring.) she doesn't want me to go because she's afraid of the distance between us. why is she afraid of the miles, i think, when there are already so many molecules, minutia, and bad memories breathing between us? sociology and anthropology.
.. i remember the tulips .. i'll tell you about the tulips sometime.
---
porcelain in the shape of an eggnog chalice wearing santa's face. choosing what i will give up and what i will gain. selecting which mysteries to share and which mysteries to keep. i know i am not altogether sweet. i know i am not altogether without motive. i know i am redhaired and i am piskie-kin - i know how to lead the man astray, and sometimes, i can spin straw into gold.
---
sulane leapt at the canvas with her red brush and she howled as though she'd been struck by inevitability and she added her tears to the rouge. she sat all night with the new york times trimming out words like 'racist remarks' and 'neverland' and 'died suddenly' and 'snowman' and 'liberal' and 'traditional family.' she affixed them to the slashes that represented the downslanting slats of the barely legal low-income housing closet where she'd watched it all unfold. as fingers, flowers, legs, and hairtwists will do. she thought about whether or not dean would save america and she surmised: not without corporate backing.
-e
written at 8:28 p.m.
