Week ending May 16
I will never get enough sleep.
If I had normal time to occupy.
Bargaining with dreams.
Go read what I wrote, it's funny.
I've forgotten the lyric or she is after someone else
and this this is what wants me.
The misery of sitting.
Then my phone buzzed and woke me up.
Wish I had something I never returned.
Cannon fodder
a kind of crepuscular lethargy
as if overnight he had surreptitiously gained twenty pounds
Mickey, like the mouse
history, which is a simple whore
retronourished
I probably didn't say the right things.
The coffee tastes weird but maybe its the soymilk.
Tomorrow everything ends.
I admitted to doing something very bad today.
A narrative film is not like a narrative poem.
I have to figure out a way to not feel what I'm feeling.
What is too dramatic and what is not dramatic enough?
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About Diary of a 36th Year
I started writing in a paper journal right after my 36th birthday in October, 2008; it has become a collage of scrapbooking, diary writing, a lady's common place book, printed out web articles and blog entries, photos and pictures, poems, dreams, emails, lists, receipts, found items... What is excerpted here is the less embarrassing, and more textual fragments thereof.
Never, never forgetting Anais Nin, with an eye toward Joanne Kyger's journals & journal poems, and remembering Virginia Woolf's insistence that everything must be documented, the diary blog is a palimpsest of new narrative, old narrative, and post modern collage styles.
Updated every Sunday.
Never, never forgetting Anais Nin, with an eye toward Joanne Kyger's journals & journal poems, and remembering Virginia Woolf's insistence that everything must be documented, the diary blog is a palimpsest of new narrative, old narrative, and post modern collage styles.
Updated every Sunday.
