fuzzy thoughts at 1:02pm

*Imagine a tabby cat eating a pan of lasagna in record time. Funny, right? I am thinking of making this very idea into a long-running comic strip titled "Lasagna Cat of the Future: One Cat's Journey Into the Future."

*I had a beautiful Sunday yesterday with my beautiful Jack. He really is so pretty. I wish I looked like him. I know, I know, "get a room, you guys." But I really think he has such a pretty face. Just look at it.

*One day I am going to do yoga regularly. And meditate regularly. And drink prune juice so I can go regularly. ONE DAY.

*"Mmmm... You taste like electrolytes."

*Last night I had some crazy deep thoughts about X-rays.

*Total number of Vermont license plates seen this weekend: 3. I think.

nighttime impressions 1

dream of plane crashes to france
my dead grandmother winking at me
that mole on her face not there
when she was alive or when i was
awake. the street light says
stop traffic, go you wanderer
but don't wander too far because
some cars are moving so just
wander in a straight line and if
you write wander too much too often
too all-at-once (seconds apart) it
looks much too weird (unless the
letters aren't written in a straight
line). give it to me crooked like the
hills you imagine running away to.
but aren't those hills just north
of france? can you take a bus
to get there? because time permits
and planes crash a lonely crash.
i'm much too ego driven to keep
my hands on the wheel.
it's a yellow light-- now what?

promise, numbers 1-6

I promise to have a good day today, despite the snow. I promise to be healthy, or at least relatively so. I promise to be nicer, such as not bad mouthing girls who went to my high school. I promise to take things slowly, mindfully, holy. I promise to take at least a twenty minute nap at some point in the next 12 hours. I promise to be okay.

let's all read a book, okay?

Good lord.

I will admit something right here right now. Although I am incredibly busy, I somehow just spent the last half hour looking at blogs of girls I went to high school with.

Good lord.

Let's just say I don't know how Jack and I survived good old PGHS.

I could say a million more things (well, probably 5-12 more things), but I will stop before I sound like an even bigger brat.

I love everyone.

Biting my tongue.

Everyone is awesome.

Blood in my mouth.

17 September 2009

I don't expect to be inspired tonight (and the nerve I have beginning each poem with "I" and forever speaking of tonights). The constant adrenaline stream of today has emptied into the ocean where I'm stuck. The rain just moves me around (even my handwriting is slow and deliberate and meant to be tidy and this was meant to be waterproof paper but then it would be less of paper) and more of tonight will bleed into tomorrow. Catching reflections off the waves and these water metaphors are just barely enough to drown out the sound of a (Quick! Someone! A bucket of--yes--water and soon! This lack of poetry will set the whole house ablaze!)

my brain: an american hero, an american treasure, an american idiot

It's about that time of night when I feel like my brain has fallen asleep standing up. In other words, the television is on in my brain, but it's just static. In other words, my brain is wearing footie pajamas and sleepwalking into a loud party in some hip downtown loft where the drinks are served with Red Bull. In other words, my brain logs on, but then watches the screensaver. In other words, if my brain were on drugs, it would be on caffeine. In other words, this is my brain. And this is my brain on caffeine. Any questions? No, this is not a vegan fried egg. This is a totally egg-ful egg, fried until nothing is left but dust dust American dust.

my future home

Desolation, desolation, I owe so much to desolation.