Week ending October 10
Everyone covering their eyes.
The season has changed.
I dreamed I was a seagull and I was teasing the ocean. Dipping down, tapping the water, flying back up. Etc.
Feeling split between cities.
Her advice is it's like nailpolish.
Pretending what I want to be told, I'm being told.
Behind the music or in front of the music around the music inside the music. Following the music.
Why are angels always in doorways?
Saw a pigeon swoop down in BART on the escalator like he's going to take a train too.
Anything could happen at any time but never does.
Every moment of silence I close my eyes.
The wrong situation I have bravery and the right one I don't.
Every chakra wracked in pain.
then she asked anything else blink anything else blink
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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.
