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dear dear, the art of art is self-described. i’ve often grumbled this when criticism came around. people could describe anything, feel everything, and yet none of the interpretations mattered for all of them did. art was, i felt, contained in its own corpse and left to die through the living lost. i tend to still … Continue reading
the sky is made of a deep lavender and swirls of separated light and tonight i listened to the music we did, danced to the coffee and uncatena, watched as sylvan esso brought me back. i had a date with me during the debacle. it went horribly, resembling more booger than boogie. she left mad … Continue reading
and suddenly, you’re 32, and you don’t recognize where you are, and you have been to many places, and you think there are still more to go to, and maybe you are overcome by greed and selfishness and a home that is not your home but that has halls that are filled with all the … Continue reading
dear dear, i used to not think of the generous geography i’ve been given. those cutaways of fat and flesh, those with names i am just sloppily learning. where once stood an abandoned muscle is now the purposeful rectus abdominis. where fat, camper’s fascia. where emptiness, a physiologic peritoneal space with the utmost magical embryologic importance. a rotation, really. a … Continue reading
dear dear, how strong you were. against the deadening of days, you continued. against the sadness inside, you swelled. i am somehow and somewhere against those two emotions now – in the same sorry situation you were in when you weren’t necessarily in your self. in fact, it is why i am emailing you despite the … Continue reading
Dear dear, This is how it ends. From the kitchen, there is a street light that is pulsing orange during the day. Many of the trees are bare, empty of their usual spring generosity. The street glows momentarily like a carrot stemming from the ground, and there is no one walking underneath, looking up, saying … Continue reading
Dear dear, I have seen that beautiful life. Over these ten days, I have woken alongside the miracle of you, watched the light linger a little longer on the horizon of your back, held the fruit you shared with me like a lover’s chin, laughed at the jokes I couldn’t always understand but still found … Continue reading
Dear dear, I think of my life in two ways. On one side there is an immense tragedy of the unfulfilled, the deadening day where I watch myself sink into misery and depression, where I am cheated on, abused, and brutalized, where I am convinced I am nothing, and where there is mediocrity displaced greatly, … Continue reading
Dear dear, Kurt Vonnegut wrote that the best piece of all of literature was from King Lear. When the climax is winding down, and the characters have shown themselves to be vile, and there is nothing left to salvage, King Lear perishes. Among all the metaphors and metonyms and entire neologisms that Shakespeare could have … Continue reading
Dear dear, If I were to tell you about me, I suppose I’d have to start with today, how I am happy and full and total, how there are jokes still stumbling joyously like a first time drunk on their way home, how I believe that there is enough food in the world for there … Continue reading
Mizpellt wurdz 