love that goddamned ragged split ends hair. can’t explain it.
stop eating the poison. it’s everywhere and it will kill you.
this music is like glass. or a stream of water let loose from a hose.
the bassline provides consistent punctuation.
I’ve been trying to eat cleanly today. Let this be a reminder that I feel better when I eat better, cleaner food. No heartburn, no pressure, no taste of vomit at the back of the throat.
I have only drunk tea today, no coffee. To humanity’s great surprise, although I have fought boredom this afternoon, my head has remained upright and I have not banged it against the desk.
I had a yogurt smoothie with the following this morning: blueberries, pecans, maple syrup (a small amount), chia seeds, whole milk yogurt and almond milk.
For lunch, I have leftover chicken over salad.
I also drank a large “multi-green” kombucha with spirulina, chlorella and blue green algae.
No junk food, no sugar, no cookies, etc.
I am trying to re-inform my body of what it means to feel full vs. overfull and therefore sick. So far, it is working well.
Monday isn’t so bad when you’ve had a good weekend. Playing with your 3 year old making cars with Legos makes for a pretty good weekend.
I took him outside last night to show him the lightning before the storm. I held him in my arms and pointed out the miles-away lightning that lit up the massive storm clouds framed by the silhouettes of the trees. He held his ears even though there was no thunder.
Most of today has revolved around thinking and futzing. And pizza. Sketching would have been smarter.
I’m yet again at a point of being disgusted by my own body and eating habits. Things that I know I should not eat but have yet to be able to stop ingesting on a regular basis include: coffee, pizza, any convenient/chain-restaurant lunch options. My brain knows I should eat veggies and my hand reaches for chocolate.
A lot of experiences are mundane, especially within the confines of a 40 hour work week. I’m thinking that if a person wants to be happy, she needs to look for the wondrous things.
This can be simple enough. Look around at nature. There were two goldfinches snacking on a flower in our garden 6 feet from the front window over the weekend. They were a high-visibility yellow, the kind that people often refer to as “a color you don’t see in nature”.
Look around at the built world. Think about all the work that went into a simple public park, for example.
Watch the tea leaves scatter when you pour the water into the pot.
let’s overthink this. let’s do it real good.
I’m listening to Luna and trying to concentrate. Clearly not working.
I’ve been getting a lot of requests to just fill in the blanks with no discussion or thought. The equivalent of “just make some shit up and it will magically work”.
I still giggle when I think about the words “they like to re-invent the wheel quite a bit”.
My hands are craving physical work almost as much as you.
so much blue. and that hair again.
I found it, but it wasn’t where I thought I had left it.
100 concrete steps down the cliff onto the rocky beach.
The business man has sandals in his office. They appeared to be quite worn. He would slip on some lightweight socks and brown penny loafers when he had a guest.
there was a cool breeze when I first stepped out. must have been a microclimate.
I walked around the bend to the craft store and bought a notebook in a nice medium grey. Also, a fat graffiti marker.
so many conversations. some people just have conversations all day and that is their job.
A photo of a raccoon standing up on its hind legs in a vacant street at night.
I’m a controlled substance/subject. Doc called. They mixed up my blood with some other patient at the lab. More bloodletting.
I was going to walk to the sushi restaurant but it was hot at lunch time and I don’t like driving at lunch time so I just got a crappy sandwich and ate in the kitchen.
Will I be able to ride my bike tonight my shoulder is all ratcheted up.
thoughts in the daytime. no time to write. this is work, for fuck’s sake. stay on task.
a light bulb made out of hair.
heavy bass. fluorescents through the smear of smudged glasses.
don’t forget the sequence.
fold a piece of paper in half, rub an object along one side at the crease. unfold. erase the unwanted. repeat.
L’Etranger. How strange to say nothing matters, it means nothing. How is it we were brought up thinking something would happen. Things did happen. Love, betrothal, puppy, birth, children. And now, repetition repetition. Grinding. Filing. Things happen and you think you’ll feel relieved (the selling of a house) but instead you feel numb. It’s hot outside who gives a good goddamn?
I used to think one could be influenced by what’s being read. Reading as a subliminally prescriptive activity. I’m sure people are affected by what they read. I felt a brief lightening up reading Deleuze, but I’m shaking my head at Meursault. This is probably typical, but sometimes I’m laughing at him because I think he’s being an ass. And yet at other moments I see his point.
The sense of nothing to look forward to. The sense that a long weekend will be followed by a longer week. You go for a short ride in the heat and dying sun of an evening in July and you feel free for forty five minutes.
There was a bunch of twine on the street, by the rusted iron plate with the diamond tread pattern.
Tangled up in ribbon. Left there to decompose.