without a true admission of guilt.

that strange feeling that comes along this time
haunting with the white and dark meats of things that fill a room
with many good smells as they roast closer to god and a
ceramic or decorative plate.

and they wait.

to be introduced to the mashed potatoes that alex made
with so much butter and kale and garlic
and the cranberries that have bubbled into paste
and want to bond it all to the looser, more lovely and
candied sweet
innocent potato. these have clementine sections in them.


later on i am sick.
my insides have decided they will bleed and bleed
and rasputin is no where to telegram a cure
so i take to the bed. hello bed and warmth. hello
relapse into eye flutters and the shutter of programming to
commercial.

no.no. leave this on. i say. it does not matter and is
easy to sleep to and wake up into
because it is eventually plotless and circularly structured for the
other overstuffed turkey brains.

except i am nauseous. if you know anything about anything
you know i kept it down until i slept with someone holding my hand.

better feeling the next day. until i felt the obligations coat my throat.
i've only just recovered from spitting up blood.
i can sit all night in the dark with a bunch of people and say things
that we won't remember. why is this what people want? there is no
other way to do things i guess.

i am sick of my job but not really
and sick of forced learning but not completely
and sick of you saying
here is where i live
here is where i live

because we all live right here

and as long as you don't get what is allowing you to breathe out such
slender sentences
i will remain going back to the bed with the hand to hold.

i don't think that selfishness is routine. i think it is the disrespecting of anothers' as inferior.
we are all so guilty
guilty.

sometimes there is not enough substance to fill us and the gruel
can never educate the palate of one who has tasted.

i am so happy when some of my senses stop and only and couple work in hyper-drive.
i am so happy when i can just see
or feel warm on my knees.
really i just always want to simplify everthing and
it's fucking impossible.

regis and kelly. people with accents.

fuck being up at two am.
"why am i obsessed with suicide" "where is god when i need him"
this is why i dont watch tv. bizarre messages can appear at any time.
actually, i do watch tv. i watch regis and kelly. why? i love the sound of regis' voice.

http://flickr.com/photos/non_delay/

so many good things have happened.
i held so many babies today. i love kids.
i even napped with dem today because i was awoken at five am!
[i didnt go to sleep until 3-30am]
i had such a full day. [so many things went wrong though!]

alexi is going to dc. im jealous, obviously. i have to be here in ny- handing in papers on kierkegaard and camus. pimping my vans on the escalator. hunters and gatherers. witty. i met someone who has a great smile. oh crap.
im upside down inside out. really i need to get to beverly at some point. brian called me today and i picked up and started singing to him. he said: "is this a voicemail?" no. i just want to sing to people sometimes.

i was going to put: "i need a good fuck" it was all subconscious and sneaky like. but i really dont i really just need to put gas in my car. its running on fumes!

Free Punch.

I feel quite accomplished. I've read two books already this month. I'm sure I wont finish a third, but I sure as hell am going to try.

I get pretty side-tracked. Not that theres anything so monumentally enthralling outside, beckoning me ever so softly, but still.

I had to go to Borders today and Bret wasn't working. Some chump rung me up. He wasn't a bad kid, it was just that he didn't give me an obscene discount. [And, I bought an obscene amount of books- on a gift card...].

Later I wound up at an exhibit at the high school where I saw my old photo teacher. She wasn't surprised that I had turned my focus to English. She also wasn't surprised that Alex no longer lived in Canada or spent a duration in Cambodia or India. Does anything surprise anyone anymore?

I still can't find last years desk diary. Normally this wouldn't be a problem, but I have postcard stamps in the pocket in the back and I need them. [I'm thinking about a piece for my arm by the way. CHRIST the train horn is blaring. why for choochoo, whyfor?]

I can't decide if I'm going to cut all my hair off or not. Ya'll have seen me with this long hair. It is long son. L-O-N-G. I have to cut someones hair this weekend. Then they are going to Texas! I would like to go to Austin. Unfortunately, I'm actually looking for flights from LA or Portland.

If the band Harvey Milk and I were in a torrent love affair, I would describe as such: "Yeah, we're not really happy in this long distance relationship, I just need to feel his touch; yaknow."