Candy lights go up
shadow play prelude:
We also let blood.
Shadow play march
negation to coffee
Search out notable anti-futurists
(everything breathes deceit).
Runaway black poodle
play of nature
the nose is in the summer garden
a day in the life.
what is this violation?
unfold myself in letters
i am a poet, after all
my words have borrowed
and been borrowed
misplaced and disjointed my face
it is spreading
like the end of Lady Gaga’s Alejandro video
it is an uncomfortable feeling
and so what
it is this a power thing it is this also a pure thing
For some reason downloading 90s Roots and Tribe may be what I need to get through this sticky slow final period. I wonder if the dormant manic braincells that were active back then will be reinvigorated or if they’ve been burnt out for good years ago. important work takes a while. my most intellectually lasting papers were the ones I risked incompletes for. So, there’s hope that this isn’t pure slothfulness at work. Hope…
I remember seeing the Roots live at Wetlands in NYC before they closed… what an amazing opportunity in such an intimate space… NYC used to be such a different rich place full of these gems. I feel like I got to NYC in ’98 just on the cusp of these things being phased out… or maybe I feel this way because, in fact, I am getting old and adventurous shit doesn’t happen to me anymore?
it’s a different social culture.
the first morning, i tried to introduce myself to the doggie mommies only to find that none of them even knew each others’ names. (awkward moment of learning new social codes). and they’ve been seeing each other every morning for god knows how long. it’s all about the doggies there! Duncan, Monkey, Paisley, BeeBee, Angelina Barker…
there are fascinating lines of desire around dogs. mini-me’s.
I didn’t fare so good this morning, it being Friday and having no coffee. One doggie mommy i didn’t recognize tried to talk to me and in my just-rolled-out of bed fog I must have sounded like my IQ was incredibly low, or that I was hard of hearing, or that I didn’t remember/realize that I had just asked her how old her dog was and she had already answered me. at least once, though possibly twice. I think maybe now I understand why doggie mommies don’t bother to get to know each other. It’s not like we’re at our best, all in jammies, and the ones who shower first get there later, looking fresh and quietly sheepish, with their doggies’ pristine tails like furry flag beacons of cuteness.