28 February 2018

0 pip!

09 February 2018

0 problems

monday, i dreamed i was starring in a movie and there was a character with a cane who was very gratuitous and i was very aware of not wanting to be the star of this movie because the portrayal of disability was problematic and i knew nina would not approve.

last night i dreamed i was in a stage play with kevin spacey and i knew i didn't want to be in a stage play with kevin spacey and i could see that kevin spacey was molesting people but i couldn't get out of it.

somehow, in all that has happened in the last few months, my greatest concern has become being forced to act alongside problematic people. how fortunate that the one thing that has not happened in the last few months is an improvement in my chances at an acting career. 

06 February 2018

0 burvil is broken

i'm watching my mother watch her mother.

we're in a doctor's office and there's some show on with a panel of women, one of whom i'm pretty sure once dated rob kardashian, and i am simultaneously proud of myself for knowing this and wishing it were possible to turn the volume down.

we are terrified of catching the flu. (i am also strangely fearful of being shot but that's a different story.) there is a kid in the room with a cough that sounds tubercular and a surgical mask he does not want to wear.

he goes to the bathroom right before burvil and, when she returns, i hose her down with hand sanitizer. we have sanitized to such an extent that i assume layers of skin have sloughed off before recognizing a clump of sanitizer remains unblended.

there is a very real sense that death is near- if not from gun shot or flu then surely from e coli.

the pipes have burst. we are bringing water in from buckets placed in the lawn in order to flush the toilets. we are waiting on someone who cannot come right now because his knees are bad and there is rain.

our reliance on unreliable people unsettles.

we are tensed, we are poised, we are waiting for something that has yet to come but we know it ain't good.

i get up every morning and write. like nothing has happened, nothing is happening, nothing nothing except the world in my head.

i marvel at how elastic i am. at how elegantly i sustained the blow of my life's uprooting, of my expulsion. i marvel at how little i feel the hurt.

inevitably there is leakage. nosebleeds intrude.

it feels like a hurricane has come through. just after a train wreck.

flooding on whiplash.

my shoulders feel like i imagine they would if i ever went for a vigorous swim.

i am pregnant with metaphors!

hemmed in by writing deadlines. stuck in ways i do not understand, which do not always hurt but are not entirely pleasant. 

we are all of us stuck in ways we do not understand.

there comes a point where your bones cannot support you and they break of their own volition.