riding this bell curve into the treeses

today my heart and my bones are a little heavy--
it's a rainy sunday-long morning-eggs and toast and damp kinda day.
writing speed, distance, long steps and rotating wheels and flying heads,
displacement of thought, new forms of intimacy,
i'm breaking up with the world so we can figure out some other way to relate.
wait, nevermind.
i haven't been writing much so i'm a little scattered in my head; i've been thinking a lot about the past couple years, what i've become, the worlds i've brushed up against and chosen, transitioning into myself, the length and strength of relationships i'm starting to miss hard.
it's good to miss. it's good to miss. it's good to miss....
this new world is rich with food that grows on trees, grass like shag carpet and art hiding in the woods. everyone is harvester and cook and eater and sleeper alike, and we are all not so different than the marmots and the prairie dogs that dig their homes to curl up in each others' warmth.
it's funny being in a new Region, the pacific northwest, adjusting to these trees and the sea and the not-flat-ness that feels homey but also not quite like my home yet. i don't know what klickitat will be like. a new community of people that will be mine for a little while and then i'll move along, waiting for something else to snag me. pulling away from all the people and places that have snagged me in chicago, in the past, has left little holes in my sweater so i hope it doesn't get too cold here or i'll have to sew buttons back onto t.rex's flannel.
and summer...? summer? my feet are getting soft and white wearing socks all the time and as my biceps grow my arms get pale--what a tradeoff. i've been wearing the same three layers for the past three days. i've changed my skin a couple times though.

word from a bird in a puddle...and what is travelling for?

today we're leaving for matagualpa from grenada today...sunday we climbed a volcano (mumbacho) and put our heads in the clouds! yesterday i saw some islands, monkeys and trees, a volcano's rocky vomit that grew trees. (as tmo and i know well, beautiful things can be crafted from vomit.)
generally, it is funny travelling this way--in a little bubble made from cordoba-dollars. good to see people doing things, to feel the fluidity of my place in the world...or at least the millions of tiny worlds that are always just out of view. to brush up against something hard and distant, and to remember what i can and cannot do with my hands; what i can make and transform, and how i still don't know how to build a house or fix electrical wires or give an allergy shot, but i can make necklaces and zines and drawings--
if we all had to rely on what we could create out of nothing...?
funny, this time, maybe like many travels, to feel somewhat displaced, a little homeless except for the home built of fellow souls, soon unlimited by the walls of the bäo...echoing jbird i am wondering what we're waiting for...

mumbling muttering packing a subtle smoke behind the jungle-garden, air like sweat sweat like pools like a night in the mumbai airport six years ago, silence silence and i am so much the sister/a she, reading "wind-up bird chronicles" and confused about reality and dreams--dreaming intensely (my mother is pregnant and z is playing with clowns and a thousand-year old ficus named the thief wife is just around the corner)--

adraft adrift.

the beginning of a thought

all of my friends are getting furuncles...i think this might mean something.

The furuncle may begin as a tender, pinkish-red, swollen nodule but ultimately feel like a water-filled balloon. It:

• Is usually pea-sized, but may be as large as a golf ball
• May develop white or yellow centers (pustules)
• May join with another furuncle or spread to other skin areas
• May grow rapidly
• May weep, ooze, crust