Cool Heat

Okay so again I've almost reached appropriate caffeine and nicotine levels for the morning. I've gotten good at finding the best possible solution to any given situation. Finding the moments, stolen against the screen to let the thoughts roll.

I have a few rules in life: Pay as you go, pay as little as possible; be polite while cursing.

Don't fuck with my family or I will find a way to rail you up against a wall and not a nice cock up cunt rail from the back, more like an elbow to cheekbone and I know she won't fight fair so I gots to prepare.

Anyhow. I am as always filled with love and distractions.

The Short List

Still no computer that works worth a damn. The thing about that gets me, really bothers me, is that I can't write. Pen and papers stilt and stumble slowly across the page, chicken scratch across the sand.

As always I push more into the fabric of this life dream, possibility and reality overlap and sandwich me in between the sheets of a freshly made bed.

I expose myself against the air and light pours through the cracks and into down my socks into my bottomless boots, this is summer and I breath against the storm rising in my throat because before, back in may or june when I thought that it had peaked and crashed, I was wrong. That was only an uptick.

Being the sort of manic impulsive disassociative wildfire that I am it gets out of my hands before I know often what to think or how to speak and in those moments beyond sleep the stars shift as the earth tilts me to one side.

Hmmm, how about a redbull?

Okay cockholes my computer is fucked to all hell.

He is having second, third even, thoughts about functioning. My ability to do shit, including write, much less post online, is null and void. That being said, I organized my closet this morning. Who knew how many socks one can sort in 45 minutes? not me.

So this is me now, here,on my stolen-back old computer which I gave mostly away but still have secret access to late at night when no one is watching and my tummy is full of apricots, avocados, and toast.

No computer and worked my third, no fourth twelve hour day this week. Beat to shit yet don't really really want to go to bed because then tomorrow will start and I am dreading a little bit the day before it starts.

Yet, there is a case of sugar free redbull and a case of sugar free rockstar in the barn to get me through to sunday.

Consider this a scenic update. I can't do much (semi-colon) I am tied to the farm. My phone works better than email these days (colon) Find me. I'll try my best to get back here or there or maybe you can show up and bring me an iced latte and a cupcake and leave before I have a chance to say hello, but know that somewhere in all of that we walk not quite alone, even though I saw you see me and we forgot that there is more than enough to go around and got selfish and the world, for an instant contracted against us before bursting, it was beautiful, but not quite as beautiful as the hour before sunset here in this valley when everything is gold and thick air holds my body to the wind and forgotten against all of that is the pitter of my head-rush dissolving my body.

I am hard to miss.

It's Never Good to Lose

That's what they say:
that it's never good to lose

but I grew up losing things
and not just competitions

but virginity
and personality

but I think losing is not such a terrible loss

Me Not Amused

And it rolls out like words across sand
and they burn down my throat as I keep my mouth shut

because I remember why I am here
because I know I've move across the perimeter
because I am happy there observing

rancor boils under me building magma seams readjusting
and all of this my shit that I don't deal with and the things I keep in quiet and tight and not spoken
there's a reason to be silent
and I know that

I am the silent type
even though I am engaged in a conversation my mind is somewhere else farther from here
and I listen to all of it so often that my ears sort of just stopped giving a fuck
and sometimes my lips do too
that's the problem with not keeping your mouth shut all of the time

I do that
open my mouth
when I don't have shit to say
thinking somehow what I've got suspended between thoughts
can be expressed in words
that if I can for once finally expose my soul completely to a stranger met off the back of a mirror

I will find myself seen and recognized and learn the meaning of my name
but instead it's not that
it is something else entirely and I can't have a word for it
because I still don't know the feint and perry
of word play
or the constructed social mechanisms within which I am obliged to operate
quietly perfecting my aim and hoping that someday the target appears

I try and fail and try and fail to try
yet still I try to learn within my being
the definition of my name the soul of the what the fuck who am I in this world
whose pants where these before I pulled them off the rack at the goodwill
and how is it possible I continue to accept all of this nothing and everything
at once and be fucking careful with fast machines, hot sharp objects, and love
be especially careful with that thing people call love
however overly pragmatic my certain disbelief in a personal ability to resonate with fear

I remain observant
the target is only the beginning of the shot
to see beyond to reaction and consequence

therein lies foresight and dependable action

Things I found today

I pulled over to *free-pee* and check my map (where in the fuck am I going (today) anyways?). Scattered around my feet were a half-dozen owl pellets. Thank you owl medicine. I would like to say thank you instinct for taking me up that particular road, thank you bladder for almost bursting, thank you miss Chaya for being the queen of the free-pee, you never know where you'll end up when you pull over and pull down your pants—

I also got a new checkered scarf that matches my riding suit, a pair of bitchin vintage sunglasses, some hankies, and few random necklaces for $9 at the Crane Mellon Barn barn sale. OH!!! and I almost forgot... a unicorn music box! I haven't had a music box since ages, not since I was a girl, a young girl, and it's not actually a unicorn...

Look closer—it is a Pegasus Unicorn which Ultimate Unicorn to the Max Turbo Extreme! it plays somewhere over the rainbow.

*

*.*.*

It's too late and I's awale

I don't even know what that means
but I like it;

so I'll let it stand

But harass you from the sidelines
because I remember that I told you
and I remember that you heard

my voice against the stars

*

Wait, It's not actually July yet

I thought that it was July
this morning when I woke up

the summer fog sitting heavily through the vineyard rows
all the way down to Dry Creek

But it's June

Which follows May
May, which I gave away on accident

July looks good
I am antsy-pantsy
about all sorts of things

like finding a good sleeping bag, tent, stove
how do I make coffee the best on the road

I am also in and out and up and down of antsy-pantsy
because of wanting

wanting that indefinable urge
to dissipate so I can settle into my bones

Maybe that's July
but I'm still in June and after giving May away, I took June to my head

When dirt is part of your skin

it can be hard to get clean
I don't even know
not really and not for sure
if I want to

So I shower and smile through my teeth
and eyes glint in the light
surmising that maybe once we stumbled together
against dawn

more likely
the wind held me up
and danced my skirt up to my thighs
fingers of dawn opening my legs

daybreak

Things I Never Say

Disordered eating is a way of being for me and has been for more than half my life. I did okay, ate regular meals, at least dinner, when I was in a LTR but these days fending for myself in the world I find a diet consisting of redbull, salad, and coffee. Then I go nuts and eat a billion calories in one sitting because I am fucking starving and then my tummy hurts and I feel wretched on so many levels.

These days my weight shifts around 110 lbs and I as long as I stay close to that I am okay. It is like the rules of three. I am good with three days: today, tomorrow, yesterday; three months: this month, next month, last month. Anything too far beyond that and I start to lose focus on what's possible, what really happened, and besides it doesn't matter anyways. Back to my tummy, my mind, my ass in pants. All of those are happy at +/-3 of 110. Anymore and things get tight any less and I have no ass. I like having an ass.

More and deeper I had my first bites of a turkey sandwich. It was tasty. I think I need more protein, serious animal carnivore protein in my life. It makes my tummy say, oh I ate. I like that.

This is not about hating my body or wanting to be so thin I die. I've been there, I know what that feels like. This is about a lifelong struggle around food, nutrition, control, independence. But, I find that the control makes me nuts, nutrition makes my mind spin, and independence leads me down the dark road of temptation.

I feel healthy right now, in this moment. Awake, healthy, alive. I had painful violent dreams, that was the turkey walking over my heart while I slept. I am sorry you were delicious on bread with cheese and mayonnaise.