December 2009
2 posts
“life, love, and leaving, rachel. jesus sometimes i think i could just lose myself in the way the moonlight falls on thick october air laden with the smell of decay and the vibrancy of the insects fucking and dying on my windowsill.”
these women hold on to their men with such desperation.
there’s something about our steadfast simplicity: sautéed apples and buttered toast on saturday morning; the small indentation at the bottom of your sternum that reminds me we were once young;
our minimalism suits us. the time we spend makes me wonder why i give in—ever, much less often—to the impulse to try so hard.
i’ll read the paper by...
November 2009
2 posts
11.17.09 12:37 a.m.
“the moose gets up there also, but bears are forever”
October 2009
1 post
August 2009
3 posts
packing uproots everything, including the fall of...
men out in the crashing surf with waders up to their chests and rainjackets on. they’re fishing for dinner—fishing to catch something. but pick a spot a few yards away, down the beach from the point, where the surf is less complex. pants rolled up to the knees, feet bare, a turtleneck, a sweater. back to the sunrise—it’s not the purpose of the fishing—indifferent to...
she calls it a mayonnegg.
July 2009
1 post
June 2009
4 posts
[life is about searching for something you’re never going to find]
May 2009
7 posts
"the colon slide"
2 parts jameson
1 part bailey’s
1 part milk of magnesia
there's a car alarm going off outside my window
i used to get paid to do editorial work.
the last two diet cokes in my refrigerator exploded from the arctic chill.
iceberg needs a beverage.
April 2009
12 posts
saturday
how to make the distinction between metalanguage and poetic language?
how to write a paper trying to define beauty and authenticity?
how to sit at a desk, in dim light, on a seventy-five degree day when there are cool sheets on my bed and cold beers not two blocks away?
what am i doing here?
27
feels somehow so much younger than 26;
sunny and 75.
26
for months the days are indistinguishable from one another then you get five in a row each of which is like a motherfucking earthquake
april
there’s that same old feeling, like you can survive on memory and hope until you reach, once again, the present moment; come into contact with it.
it’s thunderstorms and cotton t-shirts and two o’clock in the morning. it’s impossible to look you in the eyes.
the unbearably complicated simplicity of april: wind flowing over the alfalfa—like waves.
“too young to hold on;
and too old to just break free and run”
Chihuly
Once, at a stoplight in Chicago: his hand, soft, on the back of my neck.
One is inclined to say “it’s so easy to forget,” but it’s never quite forgetting; only ever the cessation of wishing, the ebb of the tide of want.
His hand, soft, on the back of my neck.
“It’s hard to eat shit,
without having visions;
when they have eyes for...”
march
I was picking out tomatoes.
You started out weak, mumbling, self-effacing. I got red leaf lettuce when I always get iceberg.
I passed on the avocados and wandered through the root vegetables while you told me stories I didn’t want to hear.
One of them ended up being rotten (the tomatoes) the other mealy. Within three minutes you had invaded my shopping cart and my city.
Enough is enough.
...