I been careless.

White limo, old old old, on the corner of Kenmore and Thorndale, painted in red on the sides and back, "Stop the killing, be kind to each other." I am surrounded by white people who find the "war" between the "Wilson" and "Thorndale" gangs an amusing urban anecdote, a place to claim faux ownership over our neighborhood, joking, "We'll come out on top, of course." We will, because it won't touch us. Oh, you mean the gang you've claimed as yours! The gangs filled with faces of kids you've never met with problems you don't understand.

Well, shit. Whence the moral superiority, T'mo? You been just as careless, stamping across the landscape with feet just as light and unburdened as these false claimants. Been careless with your money, time, dreams, friendships, drinking, smoking, possessions, food, breathing, sleeping, electricity, windows and doors, locks, keys, tobacco, communication, plans, dates, words. Think yourself into a tizzy. Dream of the devil retiring to an old mansion, the pale blue paper house that appears over and over, burning it to a crisp brown and dressing up your friends as ghouls. Think yourself in circles, go ahead. But that's it, no more.

a something, to fill the request

a handful of solitary figures in dark forests in dark woodcuts or daugerrotypes
my husbands-wives bound to me across time
all of us in the same poorly lit room
scribbling
but filling the same empty chamber, unaccompanied, ecstatic
the room bulging with our solitude
we write one word over and over again, it's always in a language everyone has forgot

Reg Induced Insanity: RIIaiaiaiaiaiaiaiaiaiaiaia - a portrait of getting out of school lickety-split

guys,
i think my eyes are open wider than usual
i mean i think i have a larger visual field than normal
a non-human level of awakeness pries open my eyes
and i have the tiny eyes of a shrew
the tiniest, lies lies from tiny eyes
sprints up and down the corridor of the faculty (foucaulty) offices
coffee coffee coffee coffeeeeeee (baileys - sassayossie) [dear last year of college thank you for helping me develop a deeper relationship with balzac's killer]
i wondered if helene cixous got drunk in libraries
the internet is a cesspool
protracted portraits of co-dependence, gchatting people sitting next to you
disoriented-dizzy
cool-awesome, spew spew vomit vomit, can we get this over fourty pages?
do you like the music of pivot?
take for instance the fact that they sound like a distillation of a clockwork orange
take for instance the fact that they smell like Beethoven
transgressive noises on the fourth floor: music leaking from head phones, wrappers, phones on vibrate, giggles, whispers, pages flipping, books clacking to the ground, someone typing too loudly, coughing/sneezing, snicking combination locks in oddly sideways lockers, packing and unpacking, (someone farts), scuffing feet along the floor, a gently clicking clock, can you hear the thoughts screaming inside peoples' heads
i'm talking about the shift from collecting to editing
let's edit this collection
it's got too many pieces, too many notes Mozart, the royal ear can only take so many
buzz buzz buzz
my phone's on vibrate just for you (hey dad thanks for calling to check on me, when did you get power back, what kind of wind storm are we talking?)
are you excited or apathetic?
is that our version of how are you?
how's it going, tik hei, tuto bem
my phone keeps buzzing
certain people who are usually on my mind are not on my mind (but they do pop up - do you bite your thumb, i do but not at you)
that's funny - i've forgotten (and i'm writing about memory and mimesis and journeys through learning and unity of time and monologues and direct address, but i have forgotten a vital thing/person/experience already so here are my inherent contradictions)
bright shining clarity does not necessarily equate to paginas on the computer
speed speed speed of thought, but too fast to steer
and my face feels dirty
or at least oozy (gross? nuh uh) and rough
before the sprints in the back corridors
i pretend not to notice i person who i know
i pretend again
this like a walk-by social snub
not really
i just don't want to have a conversation
oh reggle
joey reg
i love you
do i though?
she says to me "he said a word to me, a word that i can't even say out loud, and i think you're with me on this one, you know, like now is not the time, he said a word to me"
but see that was from another time, let's pack up and go
pack up to go the library
and home again
then to home home
bags in and out of books, bags in and out of books
books in bags,
baguettes on your head salvador
keep the ants from crawling into your eyes
SO HEY
i'm glad we can say - fuck you, i love you

polyamory can get so complicated

i've had a number of extended intimate relationships with ideas today. i've curled around a few of them and let them poke their edges into my sternum. i got smacked around a little bit, i played a fair amount. and some of the ideas i threw out the window, but i put little strings on them because i know deep down that i'll probably want them back someday soon.
the point is, i've been nestling around with a lot of different theories and practices and i'm getting tested at the scc on monday but i'm not sure i have the kind of insurance coverage to detect the insidiousness of ex-ideas and self-doubt that are lingering and stalking my brain. leli suggested i be more ruthless with my ideas. i imagine i am probably better at disciplining other people than disciplining myself.

on the other hand, if i've learned anything, it's that intellectual monogamy would be terribly boring.

also, hello squidders--haven't posted in a while, but i've been reading and appreciating and nestling (and more) with your thoughts.