Week ending August 29
I unplugged last night.
It feels too simple and I want it to be more complex.
My doctor is named Heidi and has a braid.
All day obsessed with John Wieners, want to plaster pictures of him poster sized all over my room, like a movie star, which he kind of is.
the reason women always need to talk and men never do is
Lazy people annoy me because my own laziness annoys me.
I try to think of suicide and I cannot.
Worry prevents things from happening but fear makes them happen.
Corpse pose dream of finding a bucket full of stars.
I wanted sunflower seeds but bought boston baked beans.
Reading exist as exit.
A list of projects.
And he kept saying dirty ass bitch over and over.
A feeling like the frog is listening.
I don't want to know it and want to keep it new forever.
Maybe I'm just *walking* through hell. And where is Virgil?
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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.
