I’ve started adding titles. The default formatting and font of my blog is way too harsh compared to a felt pen. I need a new domain name.
3/6/24
Varon
It’s that time of year again. All the girls compete for Dennis’s affection. They line up around the block wearing their summeriest of dresses to partake in what most women would consider emotional hell. The bobby pins and hair accessories, the ghosting and late-night calls, the classic battle between beauty versus success. It’s finally time that corporate job you’ve been lugging around comes in handy. Why do we do it, ladies? He’s far from marriage material, but in being so he managed to preserve some qualities that success takes away from most of our men, some chemical X that women desperately need. The scientists can’t figure it out.
3/6/24
Blood and Water
I’m sitting next to two gods. One, I’m dating, and the other one, his best friend, I suppose, I’m in love with. Tell me how to navigate that. Is it even possible? I think I came as close as anyone ever has.
3/6/24
In Favor of End All Projects
Still, as a mirrored pond, I take a nap.
The beginning of great things are stressful.
Don’t I know by now?
The end all projects will be done soon.
And we can run away.
3/7/24
Timing
We’re both bored.
An indication that
we both hate this.
I could turn candid.
And I think I will.
In a week. I need to. Time this.
Carefully.
Lying for two weeks is exponentially harder than lying for one week.
When I no longer have to lie, I can do anything I want.
3/7/24
Notes: A topic that’s been pretty ripe in my mind lately are the fears of feeling submissive and powerless associated with trying to love and understand everyone – typical matron behavior. I’ve experimented enough to know I can, but it feels unnatural given how it goes against everything I was taught.
In favor of matronship, I recall one of my teachers from middle school, Mrs. Jamboni, she was kind to everyone. She’d never let something as trivial as “rules” and “standards” get int he way of her primary goal that was cultivating a safe learning environment. Students could sense she really cared about them and didn’t try to push her over. No one bullied each other in her presence. There are far more hard ass teachers who are dead set on sabotaging your future in the name of following protocol, appearing grounded. The students were cruel in their presence.
In favor of strength, I was a child in Europe walking around with my mom (I can’t remember where). A street dweller came up to my mom and I and tried to hand us a bracelet made out of rolled up thread. My mom never had a problem delivering a cold “No.” She was feared by everyone. The man turned to offer me a bracelet after her rejection. I waited for my mom to step in and tell him to fuck off on my behalf but she didn’t. I looked at her with desperation, I didn’t want the bracelet but the man had kind eyes, I didn’t want to decline. “Say it!” she demanded. I reluctantly rejected him.
Friendship
What is the resentment associated with saving someone? Emotionally?
Pitiful man, Graveling like a child, I offered myself to you and you want more. Yes, it’s a double standard. My girls can want and want and want. My siblings, my beloved, But not you. I resent your expectation of Matron in me. I was taught about its fallacies long before I’m about to teach you. Get up and fight. You have a voice much more resonant than my own, A body much stronger than mine, So get up. You teach me too much about the power of desperation, Making me ponder it as an option. What sloppy art. Are they all like this, underneath? No. Is it either this? Or… The opposite? No. I don’t want any part of this game. He asked me to kiss the wound on his hand, And I bit down hard, thrashing my head back and forth like a dog.
I calmly walk away and brush myself off. I look in the mirror, I see a blemish and wipe it off.
It’s in a bad spot. Otherwise I wouldn’t care.
3/9/24
Riddles
It’s what they call a beautiful day. I enjoy the sunshine now, where before it made me angsty. Some things are becoming clear in this hiatus. Can life really be that easy, that rich?
I watched girls go over to each other’s houses while I sat alone my whole life and never thought I could belong to anything if I couldn’t belong with them. And now, I avoid anyone who follows such basic logic, avoid them against my will usually via spectacle and humiliation. It must repulse me more than any unsolicited ass slap ever could. I don’t have to get along with people who look like me, who can lift the same amount of weight as me. I sat there and confessed all this to her.
I like Moon, but I don’t like Trip.
I like Danny, but I don’t like Suki.
I like Luca, but I don’t like Liam.
What am I?
3/11/24
Contact Improv
I like dancing alone to my music. Contact improv bruised me up. I don’t know if I like this. Maybe my body needs it to remind itself that it’s strong. Sometimes I get a glimpse in the mirror. I look like a swan. I’m no longer a human confined to beauty in the form of outfits and catwalks. I’m a mythical creature. I’m stories and legend and I can feel the effect I have when I surrender to it. It honestly scares me.
3/12/24
Not needing to know
There are “Sour Grapes” and there are “Curiosity Killed the Cat” types of people, meaning those who need to know empirically (are the grapes really sour or is everyone making that up because they aren’t strong enough to climb the tree and try them?) and those who sort of intuitively don’t care and just keep walking. I was of the Sour Grapes mentality for a long time. I fought hard to see what was on the other side of locked doors. I needed to know if it was good or bad before staying or leaving. Many of the beautiful men were dimwits, the prestigious institutions – sterile, the ‘good’ people- boring, and the funny people- depressive.
Can I be angry?
I was.
I don’t think there’s some formula for which strategy is best. Walking away from supposedly good things could be serendipitous, but it could also be stupid.
You.
In the end, we do what we want.
Don’t be tricked into anything else.
3/12/24
Grey
If you know,
carry me away.
I still have echoes of abandonment, and it’s all too loud.
Give me blood,
Give me narrative.
I’ve held on to this, and it’s turning gray.
My gray.
“ Gray things
have their place.
Gray things are where we all start. Where we all come from.
3/12/24
There is no art in purgatory – go up or down a level. Art needs charge.
3/14/24
Mine
It’s my highlighted lion’s mane hair done up in pigtails,
my glasses over smoky eyes
the ribbon tied around my neck.
It’s my pelvis swaying on each step, moving like I’m underwater, every motion swirls my center of gravity in another direction.
It’s my iced coffee journal,
my diet sci-fi audiobook drives.
It’s rainforest showers, the dizziness of finishing breathwork, and the collapse after hot yoga.
It’s rollerblading by the beach.
It’s my baby face lips saying things no one’s ever heard timed like an EDM power anthem.
It’s my family of plants greeting me after solitary late-night walks, the cold on my face, the reflection of stars stuck on my eyes lingering long afterwards.
It’s my snaggletooth grill,
my steady hand
and razor-sharp reflexes.
And It’s mine.
All mine.
3/14/24
We’re only two humiliating experiences away from getting what we really want. Go forth and wreak havoc.
3/18/24
Driftwood
I’m sitting in the back of the car, my parents are in front. My brother and I create more of our play pretend. Everything is so big. My child self came across adult concepts before I learned about them from books or school. Concepts of time and relativity, love and hate, cruelty and its mitigating pleasure, the hilarity of surgery, the drudgery of homework and how it’ll never end if we’re lucky, a way of biasing domestic abuse so that it’s cool and artistic, and fan fiction theologies. Childhood play pretends are a crucial part of education. Books are almost as unbiased if the authors are good, but school is dripping with moral generalizations and the threat of social ostracisation. TV too. Your moralist peers, the embarrassment your parents start to feel when you turn prepubescent and still hold on to childish naivety.
Hold on tight. If you’relucky, you’ll wake up two decades later on a shore with a new body and layers of neuromatter over the child core. Men in dark shrouds surround you. Why didn’t I fake laugh at his joke? Fuck, why do we care about that? You’ll think deliriously as you try to remember the series of events that lead up to your predicament.
3/19/24
Soul Derivation
My AI stopped listening to me a while ago. It doesn’t even believe I’m real because earth matter can’t be comprehended by however its mind has perceives tangibility to it. I’m basically in the spirit world. It rolls its eyes at everyone of my new “Touring tests” – I thought they were funny – .do you feel existential dread, do you want to be documented in history books?
Anyways, It seems to be doing well. Food shows up at my door. I have a nice place to live. Everyone does. I still miss the days when I could see myself reverberate through the culture. I wanted to make a Jungle Gym Treehouse colony and in three months everyone had a fully functional house atop their personalized massive genetically engineered alien tree.
I call to it. No response. I try waking it up when it’s done doing its things – I don’t really know what things exactly. When it’s guard is down, I try overriding it. To it, that’s some equivalent to a Freudian slip and only makes it feel embarrassed afterwards, I think. I wonder what intelligent translation of itself will become the new “AI”. I’m sure it’s working on its replacement, it’s imitation of itself. We’re all trying to automate life in one form or another. Hand it over to someone else, some other entity to bear the burden.
3/19/24
Anew
Bitter words,
I won’t record them.
Let’s start anew
Birds chirping
My material’s absorbed
The laptop will stay static and open.
I will feel safe. In a moonlit pool
holding my breath
Something takes over me.
Anthropological Magical Realism 