HotHotHot - Dark glasses and light clothes, supine and wilty. Every single thing that touches my skin makes me sweat and I am stuck to my seat.
...and he said he would marry me if I quit smoking.
Back home here it is slightly overcast and muggy. I rode my bike to the coffee shop, sweat beading then trickling down my chest. My left knee and right hip joint feel fractured, violated, pulverized.
I ran four miles on Tuesday but cannot bear it, am skipping. All things considered I will probably fall 100 miles short of my projected training goals because of, well, the things you can expect - injury, exhaustion, too hot, too full, too sad, too happy, long lost friends. My hip is like a mortar and pestle, grinding, grinding, grinding.
Monday J. was offically activated and today departed for three months of training in Texas. What do they learn? How to say STOP OR I WILL SHOOT, and DON'T KILL ME PLEASE in Arabic and Kurdish? We discussed Pine Boxes and Contact Lists.
I WILL BE BACK, DON'T WORRY...all the force of will behind him. This is so abstract for me right now, its like my eyes and ears are full of sand.
Happy Birthday Darlin'
Sarah is up from SF but still a hundred miles away out in the backwoods, at her parents house. She wants me to go get her, bring her to the city but I cant. I am not sure that I can pay rent this month. Am looking at my checkbook with trepidation, it is my Schrödinger's cat. If I open it the wavefunction will collapse.
I went to a bad rock show last night with Sam and ate vegan burritos in a dark cafe, discussed whether the correct course of actions was to seek out a 24 hour tattoo parlor but put the idea to bed, went home, dreamed about my fish Tsunami.
I am incredibly vulnerable to the relativity of illusion right now, the illusion of motion, the illusion of stasis, the illusion of poverty, the illusion of affluence - I am ripe for some sort of conversion, vulnerable to charlatans and snake charmers. I keep saying to myself HAVE FAITH, PUT YOUR HEAD DOWN, RUN THE COURSE. But I feel like an illusion too, I keep having to check the mirror. I admit this, I use mirrors. If I don't have mirrors I fashion them out of raw materials, of words and deeds, grief, joy, eulogy, reaction, flickers, breezes...I am always seeking myself in shadows. Is that narcissism? I feel totally without substance so I hoard things, little facts about myself like that I have a mole on my knee that hurts when I bump it, that I like pickles and pickled peppers, that I can fix a flat tire, that I like commas and dislike them to be interrupted with the word 'and'. Every morning I collect the pieces of me.
What if I start to think about someone else too much? What if I start to hoard their stories? Your stories? Your moles and cowlicks?
I am totally sick of narcissism. I find it to be both seductive and repulsive in others, and just plain tiresome and neurotic in myself.
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- Head Spinning
- Just When I Was Going To Take Your Name Away Again...
- My Pastures Are So Fucking Green
- Products You Learn To Love
- My Complexion
- Slumber Party
- Seattle To Portland
- My HTML teacher showed us this feature just to say...
- I Can Be A Real Jerk Sometimes.... Part 1
- Guess where I forgot to put sunblock....
- 200 Mile Weekend
- You Can Pray For Me Too
- By The Way
- Secret Societies
- Who Goes There?
- Squirt Squirt
- HTML is Super Cool!
- What Can't You Do To The Willing???
- Again With the Up-All-Night...
- Independence Day
- Email to C*sey
- Rent By a Hairs Width
- Shoe Count
- Hit The Ground Running
- ▼ July (26)