One-of-a-kind just for @xx_jenna
This is what I want when I turn thirty. It seems cosmic/mystical for real.
Sunday Thank You
Earlier this year, I would come close to panicking when I knew I’d be really alone for more than a day or two — no plans, no one to eat dinner with, nothing to go to or see, etc. Then, just when I thought I’d gotten a handle on that, I moved in with Jolen and never had to worry about being alone at all. It was really great. I’d go to work, then come home and we’d go write until dinner, then we’d eat dinner, then we’d go write some more and then we’d go get a drink and I was really happy. I even stopped wanting to go get the drink, so we’d go home and sit on the stoop and she’d smoke and tell me about philosophy and Canada until I had to go to bed, and the whole month of March was warm and there would be some soft rain sometimes and there were flowers. Then she had to go back to Canada for most of April, and I was afraid I’d be lonely again, and revert to bad habits. But I didn’t really, and I wasn’t really lonely, either. I looked at a lot of gross porn and got into Fatal Attractions and wrote some poems and ate dinners with JE and somehow I think this made us better friends and somehow I trusted him more and more. Then Jolen came back and it was great again. Then she left and will be gone until the end of June, and I had to come back up to my house in Minnesota, where I am alone now, and for the first day or two I did feel that crazy leaping panic, like I have no one I have no one and I wanted to go do something crazy to get rid of that feeling, but I didn’t. And if it were before, I’d probably not have eaten anything other than a bagel because I’d have been too depressed to get up and go eat alone, or to cook anything for myself. But I didn’t do that either — I bought myself all the foods I wanted to eat and I am eating them and watching my body change like a pregnant woman and it is almost that exciting and miraculous, because I have had problems eating for twelve years now but I feel sometimes so different than I did even six months ago. And I actually feel happy in my house alone, like I can do anything I want and cook anything I want and keep things exactly the way I want them and I hadn’t realized too how hard it’s been to be a vagrant for a year, with nothing of my own, and although it has been less hard than I thought and less hard maybe for me than for other people, it’s still been hard and I am still grateful to be moving, in a month, into the best of the six places I lived as a transient and I am grateful to have kept the best of the people I have met as dear friends and I am grateful to be nearly fifteen pounds heavier and agented and having my fiction and poetry published in some places and I am grateful to loosened the yolk of conventionality and fear that had settled over me, and I am grateful to have used this time and energy to begin changing because I needed to change. And I am grateful to you for reading, and to all of you who have emailed me to ask how I was and to all the friends I have made through this blog and to all my actual friends who read it because maybe that is painful, I know it can be, and I am sometimes so stunned by the love of others that I feel like I should love more and more in return, and so I am trying, and I am not lonely, and I am not depressed, and I am not afraid, and I am not unhappy.
The Night of the Universe
Thank you so much, your lovely words make me believe my poetry is not for shite.
An illumination from the belly of the porcine woman
you have taped to a five-dollar lightbox shines upon
our halfnakedness and later you change the record and
I spill wine and we ride this soft taupe womb-couch
together to placid exhaustion. I am concerned about
an open window in your shower. Scientifically, li-
ght is only a mode of darkness; open is a method of
closed.
When I think this way I worry less.
And then you inspire me to write more, love more, and worry a little less too…
Today I bought midcentury foods but still made myself this 2000s avocado egg thing but tomorrow I will eat like an A&P Queenie John Updike New England Protestant bougeois canned-fish-eating alone person.
This is me & my bed & our foil leaves & we look like night circus. (Taken with instagram)
In descending (I think?) order of both oldness and neuroticness, but not in order of intelligence. Red is regrettably far far sweeter & stupider than the others. (Taken with instagram)
The Night of the Universe
An illumination from the belly of the porcine woman
you have taped to a five-dollar lightbox shines upon
our halfnakedness and later you change the record and
I spill wine and we ride this soft taupe womb-couch
together to placid exhaustion. I am concerned about
an open window in your shower. Scientifically, li-
ght is only a mode of darkness; open is a method of
closed.
When I think this way I worry less.
There are 834 “likes” on my Twilight review.
Best comment:
“this is about the first book right? im sorry but ur wrong, nothing happens for at least 300 pages exept the mystary of “edward cullen” and thats IT!!!”
I mean, nothing happens in my stories either. I think it’s not an uncommon problem.
