Week 14
A scientist. Selling Tupperware.
I didn't connect that it was extreme until after he left.
Questioning the ability to shakes things off vs am I repressing?
My left hand gripping muscle pulled.
The illusion of help.
More grace in just playing that role.
I apologize for everything.
I must have fallen asleep somewhere.
The back of the couch is the trunk of a car.
"Carrie, I don't know what you're talking about, but did you see her dress?"
sceneless, seamless
"Does it help at all to consider that in part your affliction is the artist's?" (Duncan to Levertov, Letter 422)
Nice to be at the end of something that's also new.
A letter from the post office.
Justified by my reaction.
Sad places to be.
And the linear interrupts.
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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.
