Category: Uncategorized

Will an ice queen emerge from today’s enchanto-scape? Trees like churros in the turquoise morning. I imagine her nipples as dark brown (not the ice queen); mine are pale. Scratchy woolen scarf rubbing on my scar. Legs a little open on the train this morning, in glitter lavender wool tights. The men keep their legs //really// wide open and I hate them for that among other things. I guess it was all those sisters, lined up in a row in identical outfits, that made her a poacher with a daddy complex. Their various homelinesses and vulgar ruched strapless wedding outfits like some dumb poster one sees in the subway for a cable tv show? How can he be happy in that world of Texas party glitz, or for that matter in any world at all? Who’s in hockessin Delaware? My eyeglasses teeter on my middle-aged nose. Someone coughs in the other room.

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Hockessin, Delaware?

Poetry Project last night. Toni Simon projected her intricate & astonishing collage-drawings (I told her after I wanted them on a textile) to Nick Piombino’s Contradicta aphorisms. This one especially resonated for me:

To know having is to feel deeply when bereft.

And now for some choice lines from the second reader, Lisa Robertson:

inner Spain

If I degenerate into style, it’s because I love it very much

If females lick language/ death/ economy

One’s strange bare body needs a party dress/ tyrant body

A sort of clown of the feminine with the head of a nocturnal bird

The biggest problem with melancholy is that it is more detailed than the world

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One.

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You make me feel like a launchpad/ I just don’t know how to make it wide / I just want to be your be your maid/ I just don’t have control of my ham / though I have this cider/ I want to give it all to you/ you gotta believe in something slimy / there is a way I can be a giraffe/ it’s this liar love inside of me/ I don’t know how to make you fear/ if you give me jam/ I just wanna be your be your man

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apricot oil!

of riding in cars near snowy beaches with cliffs, a school (my old school in Japan, but not really, since in my dreams I am so often “in Japan”) where the ceilings leaked buckets of rain, and two friends sexually caressed me, one in a car, one at a party; both times it was not really appropriate, and I didn’t know what to do.

Also that I needed to do a photo project of portraits of women at these snowy beaches with cliffs; I remember thinking to try to recruit either Brenda Iijima or Marianne Shaneen. It was going to be photos with text, and I thought…how can I do this without being hokey?

I was down in the basement throwing out the recycling
and there was a guy down there getting rid of stuff
and guess what I snagged? one of those multicolored
revolving disco lights! on the very day I’m having a party.
how excellent is that?

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