May-be

May's a month of possibility where this caterpillar turns to the ultimate self-fulfilling metaphor and butterflies the pain and shit away.

Ma ma mia
The words the words
to free ya,
are you are you
gonna tell me
the little girl who watched little boys
like ants on her hands kept in boxes
of childhood manipulation fantasy
gets to come out and play?

April creeping up...brushing off the crawlies

creepy, comes from creep. it's an interesting word.
from wiktionary "creep (plural creeps)The movement of something that creeps (like worms or snails)A relatively small gradual change, variation or deviation (from a planned value) in a measure.(informal, pejorative) An annoying irritating person(informal, pejorative) A frightening and/or disconcerting person, especially one who gives the speaker chills or who induces psychosomatic facial itching.Stop following me, you creep!"


So what is implied is creepy, wormy, insect-like slithering movement, either emotional or purely physical that makes the experiencer of this movement uncomfortable. You could say that relationships are in some ways based on movements that we make towards each other communicatively. Communication and interaction is a movement. So "creepy" is a movement that is buglike, uncomfortable...maybe this is where primal fear of the unknown and distrust of strangers hooks up to allow us to figure who we can and can't trust in this short little blip of a life. 

permeability

I don't know about you, but I'm far too socially permeable. I've known for a long time that I can be extremely (or overly) affected by what people say and do towards me. My mood, my thoughts, my disposition...I guess I should live alone again (soon!) until/unless I find people who I'm happing cohabiting with. I'm very high in empathy but at times I wish I could just switch it off. Click.
Really, people can take advantage of the permeability and good will of others. These amoeba layers that separate me from other people, they could use a few body guards in there. I think I'd like a couple Israeli soldiers patrolling mine. Got them. Ready.

helloooo

I want to write an article called: America's Next Top Woman
stay tuned, it will be a linguistic anthro expose of how Tyra Banks is a self-made policer of the American model woman prototype, whitening strategies and all.

I am on a kick that involves bouts of attempting to thesis write and then taking breaks by watching the silly, wise, and rude Patti Stanger. I am a sucker for certain kinds of television. Oh the personalities. And a yenta?
Come on. If Patti calls herself a 3rd generation matchmaker I'm probably at least a 10th. It's just a guess, but come on. I was born in yentaville. I will shuffle love like an easy deck of cards and deal your hand and read it as if I'm psychic except I'm not, I'm in yentaville. I know that doesn't make any sense. Um.

Good night love-wanters. (don't we all)

Brazilian dreams

I found out today that I won a fellowship that's gonna send me to the beautiful Brazil this summer. I'm going to ride this happy wave of anticipation for all it's worth, baby yeah!!!
I've never been to Brazil, and the goals for this summer could include:
1. Improve Portuguese (well this is obvious and the point)
2. Check out potential dissertation research sites and ideas (the second obvious point)
3. Write a novel
4. Learn the capoeira
5. Fall in love
6. Enjoy life
7. Write a novel about:
    a. falling in love to the beat of a Brazilian drum
    b. autoethnographic self-fun
    c. something wildly fictional where Kurt Vonnegut meets J.D. Salinger meet Lev Tolstoy meet Emily Dickinson meet Louise Gluck meet my mother
8. write poems and prose-poems, and stories, and articles and other fun things
9. draw, paint, dance, smile, laugh

I'm into lists at the moment. Lists this organizational thought process where numbering and sub-numbering is supposed to provide order. I'm so damn excited!!!!

on self-displacement

When you were a child, did you cuddle with a beloved stuffed animal before nightfall? Maybe you pressed it to the beating wish for human connection in your chest and recalled stories of Cinderella or maybe Ruslan and Ludmila or whichever love story happens to be passed on in your iteration of modern culture. Maybe when you grew up you met some approximation of this fairytale, adjusted the goggles through which you process reality, and settled down with Ruslan or Charming or Bill. Maybe you didn't. Maybe instead you got a lonely dog or cat reflective of the hungry need that has only increased in its beating from childhood chest to adulthood chest that craves and craves. You got a job as a social worker or a teacher. You got a job as a nurse. You help people. Or you don't, you just own a Sims colony in which virtual families live and die and fart and procreate and tell you that they love you.

The self is hunger. The self is hunger for hunger. The self is hunger for mutual hunger. And however your hunger happens to displace, form, mold itself, the drive is a constant need to eat people. We are the self-congratulatory vampires.


PS: This is why we love dogs and cats so much. They are our own hunger, down on all fours, they have submitted to hunger completely and honestly, always hungry for food and love which essentially becomes the same thing. Food-love, love-food, to eat to love to talk to drink to eat to love to talk to consume, consume me-you. Across the table, the table on which we consume each other. The wedding table the coffee table the dinner table, the consumption slab across which we displace food with love with food.

ta ta and hello

the world is full books and books after hours in stacks and stacks and stacks of them make me dizzy. Which is what happened today. I stayed in the library and sucked up so many ideas into my skull that I fiinally got dizzy after oh maybe 10 hours of this and so then finally, I went home to feed myself and rest up for the next round.

I will get there, damn it. In the mean time the reading and breath-reading (as in inhaling words through the nostrils and mouth, sort of like a knowledge-inhaling human that is produced by overzealous university environments,) will continue. I need to write. First I must read. I have no time. At least I can breathe. In
hale
ex hale.

Good night, shona tova, tova, tova.