| | i can't sleep.
vonnegut wrote about billy pilgrim and i weave my life into the contexts of the books i read; i swear i was being beaten alongside frederick douglass two weeks ago. so a handful of nights ago i closed my eyes and then opened them a few months ago to when i cried in your arms and asked you "how do you know how do you know how do you know what will happen?" and you didn't know but you said you did so then i had a dream
and in it someone gave me the answer and now i know. i woke up hugging my pillow and so dream, wherever you are, if i could speak to you, which i can because it is the planet tralfamadore, thank you.
and if this spellcheck doesn't shutup or at least halt itself in trying to make me feel linguistically inadequate, i will end its life. its little spell-check life.
i feel redundant; i am lying here blank and docile as a lamb and so is my mind. if i could rip it out of my head and jar it then it would flicker and shudder and make crepe paper sounds. i'm only as old as my bones.
listen: the problem is that you fit in my wooden long box and you can't be stirred--the problem is that you are dazed by a potion and i can't stop whatever it is in here--and i am pointing to both my head and heart--that is making me stir so. the point is i don't know if you have it right or if i do but it's difficult to be heard across the sea of what is and what is not.
i keep listening to my playlist from the beginning of college and marveling at what a complete statue i was. i was hideously lonely. i still am today. you can imagine here the prideful twinkle in my eye. once that was almost a year ago. again it is now. rrr hates redundancy.
you won't ever read this, which is good. you cannot. you cannot know that in the tall grass of my brain sleeps a much simpler green jell-o version of myself--one that sorts things into loves and does not live. silly!
"if you were strong, you did not know it
your endurance as modest as a house fern
i was born waiting and around me
wrapped the folly of man and
i tried to warn you but you could not listen
there was glass and 3 years between us
on a table it sat idle and reticent like a moon
or many of them and so i ask you for
answers to questions you couldn't quite hear
in a bottle they were and so was i
sloshing in the questions sorry i said
you couldn't hear that either and i was
in the glass and there was a green bug that told me
the key to happiness is letting the heart come forth
and proclaim i and you will strap the mind to
a chair and gag it and make it watch in
thirsty silence, will you not? deprive it of water
put it out on the street and become pride-
less mush will you not?
will you not for the justice of love and they,
the idealists?
this was serious, i thought
and growing up was serious,
i thought and so i waited and was serious
and did you ever know that i watched you
and i am sincere like a dog it's funny
but not laughable just funny
and that you are a lucky penny and
each time i pick you up it's the first luck
and the best luck and so i'm in a bottle
lucky and sloshing with my green bug
and the folly of man and that's how
you are so strong for your patience
and you. and you. and you. "
i don't even know how much of it i mean. i don't know how much of it is about you. i still don't know how to use what my dream told me. i want ben & jerry's.
i don't know where i am going to live still because atlanta hates me and decatur is being an inexpensive house whore. i like the city come on let me live there. whatev, though. an experience is an experience; i'm just really attached to all of my walking routines. rrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
so i am welcoming you to the giant stupid convention that my life is at the moment; come: set down your intellect on the bureau and let us TOAST.
i love reading the comments on youtube videos. some people are nice. others, tedious. others: retarded. humanity is like that, but i probably wouldn't know because i've been stuck inside disenjoying myself.
i am too tired to breathe. maybe now i can sleep.
count sheep
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| | Posted 6/5/2009 12:54 AM - 3 Views - 0 eProps - 0 comments
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