who's leaving who this time? (again, a theme for violins)

i swear i swear i swear i'm gonna yuke like all over the place my legs feel like jello you are my friendship rock of womanhood civilization i am so so sad this weekend this week i am so excited for you so excited for you so excited for you so excited that my bitterest rivers flow sweet such that we can kiss and not feel aroused my traitorous body at last feels nothing its bones damp and its nerves damp we did the sentimental thing which was like a funeral for the not-dead the just-leaving promise you will call me i read lorca i thought the repetition makes no sense i am growing tired of repetition it is so so easy so so so so facile and limpid and crystalline and easy easy easy easy there easy now easy now it is so easy to repeat yourself i said lorca lorca lorca why all the repeating the repetition is so so boring as the man and three women step to each other closer and closer whispering on the edge of the woods i am not interested in this anymore except when we are all always having been being on the edge of heartbreak not the woods not the grass not even the clear sky but the thunderstorms and concrete and holding a cellphone up to play music cupping your hands around it to blast it out in a very specific trajectory round/under chain link everywhere sweat underneath shoulder straps everything damp my bones my nerves my notions here here here like a symphony like ravel's terrible bolero that refuses to resolve at the very last moment the moment in which we have been playing charades and it's turned into war i am so so so so so excited for you i am excited for me i am excited for us YOU WERE ALWAYS THE MOST MOROSE DRUNK everyone's mumbling death or talking about their new job are you king of groupon yet are you the king of my heart we could all fuck before we go our separate ways my nerves my nevers my bones all damp the day ends in a cold bath and a headache

a photographic response to creeper's plea

i started writing a text-post. it was boring. you can read it in the drafts if you like.
here's pictures. that's more fun. i wish i could bring back the < lj-cut > for you right now.
love,
-me

p.s. you
probably will have to open the images individually to see all of them?


self portrait in a letter
i seem to be thinking about my blood, school, anarchy, eliot, my bike, madison, and my numerous crushes.


took elz' bread recipe to heart and have been playing around with that a lot


dreaming up ideas for dinner parties and then having them


debbie is wearing julie hagan's turtleneck (???)
while enjoying house-made dosa, sambhar, and chutney


visiting home


homebodies


homebuddies
(the salad cancels out the cigarette)
(he never smokes cigarettes)


an appropriate last photo of the home i love and will miss

i don't really have a picture of my beautiful bicycle: sweet dumps,
they occupy much of my thinking
oh what a hottie
mmmbikes

Lights up farm factory

The past three days I've only seen my dome at nighttime. Just as I'm losing myself, bewildered on my nighttime walk through the woods, the brush, the downhill slippery leaves (contact improv has helped me to fall gently) I see the outline of my home, my dome, my magical spot with running water and electricity and a hula hoop. We settle in, get naked together, meditate through open space and gratitude and warmth.

I am so well taken care of here. Yoga at 6:30 in the morning. Two delicious home-grown meals cooked every day by our resident chefs and eaten communally in the yurt to power us through farm factory time. Let's get these fisker-wielders some cucumber mate smoothie! How wild? How shaved? How many different ways can you cook zucchini? Work work work until lunchtime. Eat. Sit sit work work until dinner. Breathe. Puff. Walk home.

It'll be like this for the next two weeks or so. Profit rises as the weather cools. We saw our first rainbow yesterday evening.

And though I have no buddy-buddies to play with, there are the stars and my hula hoop, which both make good dance partners. There is the solitude to really feel myself out, learn more about my own needs and desires, breathe into the woodpeckers knock knock knocking.

And I miss. Expanding into elsewhere and back into here.