I came home to a bunch of people in my living room.

-Is that your sister?
-Yeah.
-She looks different than you.
-Yeah.

You think, today is a day for small niceties. You try to remember what you were writing in your head while drunk, but you forget. This is typical.

I took a lovely shower and feel much better. I wish everyone weren't so busy this weekend.

I took a lovely shower and feel much better. I wish everyone weren't so busy this weekend.

I do like myself. I like myself more than people realize or than I will admit most of the time. I like myself when I ride my cute bicycle to coffee shops and sit -drinking fucking decaf because I can't drink caffiene. I think I am an attractive -human being. I know I can attract other attractive human beings in the right scenario. I just get overwhelmed by a lot of things. It's really all about desire. I eat ice cream and then feel bad later. I want to go to Austria, but am absolutely terrified. I want to make the statement I want to make in clear terms, but cannot make it come out properly. It bothers me that I want anything at all from other people. I like to talk about how it bothers me.

Today I wanted to eat ice cream, even though I knew I would regret it later, but I went and ate ice cream and consumed all those fucking calories, but I did it because I wanted to.

Ugh I am not getting out anything I want to say at all. But this is because really a lot of what I have to say isn't very nice. My cat is typing on the keyboard with his head.

Fuck it, whatever happens happens. Think whatever the fuck you want to.

Woke up with the worst cramps ever mixed in with a terrible hangover in the middle of the night. I feel okay now. Vastly looking forward to ice cream from the Grand Old Creamery with my lovely coworkers and then crashing on my dad's couch when I get home.

Michelle and I wrote this prose poem together this spring. I'm sorry if she is upset that it's up here, but I keep thinking of this part she wrote "I would like both: that quiet, secret part of you, if it was all of that quiet, secret part of you; but I also need the all, the indefinite, the definitive, the closed-circuit, a current through us and only us, to sough in this room, everything gentle and in slow motion." This describes everything.

In the beginning I thought, here is a person I have sometimes seen before. It’s funny that way, how a person can exist, but not really be there. So I say no to the idea of you, because the idea of you has run through me, yes, gone through me and completed me and gutted me, at least several times before. It was illogical and the first time you tried to kiss me I pulled away and you asked me if it was wrong and I didn’t know, because your body, though beside me, though comfortable in ways that I am not comfortable inside myself is foreign and threatening. I thought of mouse traps, cheese. How easy it is to slide ones head inside the clasp. I know it could come down on me at any moment that you decide it’s time. Despite my attempts to be definitive, I know you are in complete control. I know this when I notice that your gaze has drifted a slight left or right, so that you are not exactly looking me in the eyes anymore; we have begun disintegrating. These calculated insecurities, the way you ask me why you are not enough. I start to think about your skin after you already outthought mine. We are at different steps in this process. Tire of me already. I cannot give you all of me, I cannot be wildly impressive at every turn, and I cannot give you anything if you are always only half here, half-hearted; everything, to you, is momentary. It is enough of me, sitting there. You picked out parts of my body I forgot were there, which is most of it. Later you say I want more of you than you want of me and I say yes, the fact that you have skin is not enough for me. You were never good at making lists, except figuring out where to place me. I’ve outlined the ways in which we do not exist in the same room: the sound, the push, the people always around you. I would like both: that quiet, secret part of you, if it was all of that quiet, secret part of you; but I also need the all, the indefinite, the definitive, the closed-circuit, a current through us and only us, to sough in this room, everything gentle and in slow motion. All I can think is that image of you leaving, real or imagined. The way that hugging turns into clinging and I hate this notion: that I have clung, that you can tell people that I am clingy, am clinging. When something comes in too close, the vision of it leaving is too large for it to be seen.

I sit around waiting for people to care about me the way I think I want them to and they don't. I realize over and over again that they never will and every single night it's a new revelation and I make plans to do things about, but I don't. And then it all ends and the cycle repeats and I have to remind myself that I am still here, that I still exist as a human being, though they haven't validated me. I get drunk thinking it will make me say all these things that I need to say and then I don't say them and maybe that's the problem. Nothing will make me say these things because I am scared to lose what I have, though what I have makes me so terribly unhappy. Sometimes I just say fuck it and go to sleep, fuck it and go to the gym and then it returns. It makes me upset that this happened. I didn't mean to let this happen.

I make the assumption that people who really want to see me will contact me. Then it occurs to me that the reason a person isn't around, is because they don't want to be. Last night I dreamt that I texted a friend a couple of times to hang out and then starting panicking because it was too much. This is the lovely point I am at with people right now.

Men make really funny faces while lifting weights and stretching in front of the mirror. They make funnier faces when they realize that someone is watching them watching themselves. I've started closing my eyes while stretching.

My gym is across from a grocery store. What the fuck. I did yoga in Minneapolis and then strove straight to the gym and went on the elliptical for an hour. Then I went to the grocery store. I bought lettuce and grape tomatoes and a roll. They are encouraging a cycle of eating and working out. This is terrible.

Yoga in the Minneapolis Sculpture Garden.

Here's what I think after eating dark chocolate zin liquor ice cream:

I am going to workout for hours and never ever eat again.

I hate the way skin looks after being under a bandaid, pale and damp. I cut the tip of my middle finger open using the light table yesterday and I can't find any bandaids in my house.

All my books of poetry are packed away in boxes and I need them desperately. I need books of poetry I haven't even read yet desperately.

At this moment I am calm and satisfied though this moment is not different from any other moment. It's like the realization that these things are inconsequential. Somedays I like the thought that at the end of September I will be gone and this will be gone along with it. Other days it makes me panic. Makes me wish I weren't going and could go somewhere else. But a lot of the things that are happening are happening because I am leaving. I have the appeal of someone who is going. I let things slide. It's like I am never coming back and if the notion of leaving is unimaginable, the notion of returning is even greater so.

Maybe when I come back, I will move to a different city.

I wanted to take many pictures last evening, but somehow only remembered I had a camera while sitting in line at the drive through.



Post-going out hungover breakfast:
Organic eggs, organic hashbrowns, honey wheat toast, bacon, pulp free orange juice, ibuprofin, and episodes of 30 Rock.

I just typed a facebook status and a blog address without fuxkng up. This means I am basically sober.

Blair and Danny and Ayanthi came to my house to drunk text and eat Mcdonalsds and I informed them that I already drunk texted several people and do not eat Macdoanalds. We watched Snooki get punched on the fJsey Shore.

I wish I were this happy all the time. I finallyt had a fantastic evening where Ig ot to see so many people thatI love and then go out and get drunk an ddance.

I love everybody exvept McDonalds. I'mhjungry. I have the drunchies. JKsey Shorrreee