transcriptions

this is my notebook but taggable etc don't look @ it thx

[electric-candles]

th 2/25

Winter sunlight 3 pm

Warm water, brackish-sweet

somehow , I;ve always been empty. The stranger, Meursault, was empty -- his hollowness matched mine, it filled up my emptiness until it swelled with light, not matter, not fullness, but light, warm and radient reflecting from my empty attic walls, mirroring that blankness until it became full of itself, until it became beautiful.

(on hearing I identiofy with the Stranger)

“Wait -- the sociopath?”

(as though spoken aside to some audience)

Isnt there something beautiful in sociopathy [?] no, really, hear me out: (shift back)

Isn’t there something beautiful in the emptiness, that tight-fisted germ of the stars, hard and wild and radient --

Radiating, lighting its own way (x) self retained and self sufficient, a universe unto itself

A jar of tea

Placed on a hillside

The stiff canvas, flat copper pennies

An hour later, still warm

Around it warmed and softened

I am nothing beautiful

I am nothing, but i am beautiful

I am nothing but a beautiful nothing

I am nothing, but I am a beautiful nothing

I am nothing, beautiful

[electric-candles]

tue 2/23

Stories filtering in (late night 3rd floor cmc)

[electric-candles]

sun 2/21

All i want in life is peach tea.

Some vestigial longing for sweetness, left over from errant (sticky-fingered) childhood\

A soft memory of summer, foil wrapped and stapled, metallic and honeyed on the back of my tongue (in the back of my mouth) as calico and elderly as ever

I don’t even like peaches. Only their soft blush, their parcelled remnants

[electric-candles]

2/17

Taking long showers in the waters of lethe

Long lethean showers

And laurelling her hair with clairol

Settling in

To the rhythm of ritalin

Mossy green pellets of winter’s grab

Bathing, the waters of lethe

Smoothing away the day’s lechery

Of ills

Spilling forth, ill suited to Cameo-scrubbed taps,

The ripples rivulate and wrap

Themselves in sawdust-speckled skin

Flattering (flattenin) fertile furrows off my brow

Like eager early summer rains

That soothe the eager earth to muddy (sordid?)sleep

Settled into sordid earth

From which, resilutely, no blooms would sprout

Black and fertile in its own right

Basking under the slow-receding snow

The thrill of relief, it was sudden, giddy, gadding about

th e love of life was in being able to loive it and leave it behind as you go

So long and buried, i grew lovesick

With the first heady ray of dawn

Like desert flowers that bloom at night

Like desert flowers that bloom at night,

Unfurling their downy cheeks to the firstbrush of cool air

Awed with the heft of six months and more,

Paltry and prolific of the mundane

But each leaf a brief lovesong in birdsong,

Letters of permission

To myself, to myself

X a pause ion the hail as good as a profession of love XX

A moment’s remitance, not gone amiss and taken remiss

A missive, permissive

Of brief stillness

Drifts of drafts, piled (heaped) in the margins of infrastructure,m

Downey and rigid and melting, pockmarked with tar

Slowly ground down to the quick

[electric-candles]

sun 2/14

Melodious bones

In public company

[electric-candles]

2/13

I can feel sores rising on my lips

Settling into the sea change

[electric-candles]

2/11

Art as a means of expressing culture

A stranger to myself, i have never felt more beautiful --

I have never been more beautiful

Bouyed on broken pavement

Full of the city and the city full of everything but me

Shirt that says dump him already

Watching sea changes rush down the gutters

[electric-candles]

2/10

Lens -- stranger

Pos connotation, NYC

Safe, able to breathe

Stranger to other people

w/o leaving [????}

Meeting the world for the 1st time

[electric-candles]

2/9

Eminently over-careful

What’s the harm in trying?

This is the only one I’ve found interesting so far, and it’s interesting because its ripe for disagreement (disagreeing)

Rt: Frost

I love you in all of my limited capacity

Re: browning

[electric-candles]

2/8

five dollar mistakes

[electric-candles]

2/7

I am not yet brave enough to appreciate other people’s writing

It pains me

In my reticence, my inadequacy

[electric-candles]

2/5

Menthol (menthol)

Sharp memory

I don’t much care for the American people --

Not the way we are storied

white -frocked and white picket fences

White waves on the white sand ([these two lines] pretentious)

Foresters, conquerors of some great unknown expanse

Manifest frontiers and manifold destinies

The ice-clear springs oso beautiful we cannot help but poison them --

For what can you do with such a love but kill it and make it your own

It’s easier to break your own footsteps

Through the frothy, giving snow

I have not the time nor the patience

To bend my wavering way towards yours

Like clockwork, the stage curtain falls, exactly at it uneven time, 10:12 pm (--> twelve past ten pm)

Early morning dark,

The sweet-sharp memory,

His voice still rough with sleep --

Menthol

Even the thought of the smell strikes me, strange and foreign [and familiar]        from and incongruous bottle,

Filling the air beneath the showgirl globe lights that we never bothered to change

Jean reading his poetry

The easiest refrain: I hat emy mother (italics)

Like a fetal heartbeat

Fluttering and parasitic

Illegal, insignificant

Dead ladybugs on the steps, the sills

Even after sand and snow have sweapt them

And kept them

Scraped them bare

Brittled in the killing frost

The same fragile cochineal x shells

[electric-candles]

2/4

Dead lady bugs on the steps, the sills

[electric-candles]

2/3

A child of impulse, without glory

Bears the rotten fruit of allegory --

(a/a/a/b → close off, let down)

The iron cold of fe

Bruary

Broken nails and cowrie shells

Shelling out shards of excuses,

Excuse me, excuse me, cowed

Cowering, crowded

I still can’t stand seeing pictures of myself, pictures that I did not take

Seething with sea -change

Churning the seen-through waves that waver,

The days unfold, season by season

Still green beneath the plasticked glass as though it had fallen only a week ago, still just-browning and spotted. The fine-boned ribs of a fine lady’s fan, the birdlike bones just beneath her hand

A liberating apathy, choking and tangling with its loose ends

Persephone reckless unbridled

How, in the winter, she must hate to call home

For when her mother weeps (grows cold/stills) in the winter

She looks to the dark damp stones,

Coarse and unperturbed

She cares not

Persephone, harlot lipped, she kisses forbidden fruits, sucking out the seeds

One / by / one

The dark nectars x drip

Down her chin

Staining her white frock

Write more about persephone → lens??

The wanton persephone

Takes her leave of leaf-wreathed bereavement

Hoary reason in early frosts

When you find fruit that’s not supposed to be there, No one’s yet tried to bend it sweet Bloating its bright skin sallow

I’m worried tomorrow will be the same.

That every day will be the same.

And each night,

Tired and hoping and dreading

A shutting down day, the sun sluggish faint and not forrhcoming

“This profile has been closed by the writer”

[electric-candles]

2/1

I think the only thing I believe in wholesale is basic human rights?

Seeing and not seeing

“My children are themselves” [adrienne Rich, “Mother-in-Law]

And there is naught you

can do about it,

Not you,

You // who ..

Never have i loved you,

The bitter child of mirth

I am but the product of some unaccustomed birth

Washed up in the thrashing of the waves

Too caught up in the rages of her own early motherhood to see clearly

The changing geographies of compact shelving

[electric-candles]

1/31

Drinking until i threw up last night

-noted for posterity or something

- it was terrible

Satisfaction of using a pen up completely

Fragile and impractical

Stillness and sadness and sickness at once

[electric-candles]

1/30

Formative social identity *

An abstraction of justice