Friday, September 12, 2008

i'll find you and i'll kill you

song and illustration chad vangaalen from his new album soft rotation




***

keery is downstairs drunk and sitting on the couch with the lights off. everyone has gone to bed. i have left him a loaf of bread and a red plastic cup of water. he asked me to turn the lights off when i left.

***

i want to publish things very badly. i want to be able to link to something and say that this link leads you to my work. i want to comfortable with the term 'my work' and i want to be able to use it in sentences casually so people can know that 'my work' is a casual and normal to my existence as a writer.

i am very aware of my chest as a cavity right now. there is a hole in my belly and all the air is rushing out.

there is something in my skin that is crawling, crawling, crawling. i am typing this from a bare mattress in my room while looking as a fetus holding my knees. i would like to be held and to suckle some unknown teat. please, someone please put a teat in my mouth. i would like an unknown teat in my mouth. this would bring me some kind of motherly comfort.

yesterday i was at a wedding and on the back of a paper i wrote a story about marta floating away on a storm in her apartment in mexico city. when she landed she was on the beach in acapulco. i left it in a bin for the married couple. i hate married things. i don't like marriage. i feel afraid when asked about it.

i feel my balance of power is shifting in life. i feel that the power i claimed before and felt was mine and that defined my identity is changing. there is a certain shedding happening and however feverishly i rant on how it is natural to change, i cringe at how i have dealt with shifts in power before. this is something that has been happening over the course of this week.

i should have some real and constructive things to say.

there is no beer in this house.
i have no way of getting drunk now.
i would like to 'get fucked up'
i would like to join kerry downstairs eating bread in the dark.

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