Its terrible to love anything seasonal.

.

not only can the road handle it,

so can i.

i really dont understand what it is about me that people find repelling. I feel very undercut. And lonely.

I wish i were on a tropical island somewhere.

Id go the whole wide world, just to find it, swear.

I think i will go see a movie tonight.

For some reason going on outings where usually there are other people involved are very theraputic.

I make a mean cup of hot cocoa.

A dance a pretty good jig.

I used to resent being a woman,

now i embrace it, now im staggeringly proud of it.

I wanna talk about it.

I wanna valentine.

Im going to start re reading dracula becuase i once picked him over frankenstein..or something like that.

I have a secret desire to be photographed, because i always do it.

I need to write my french stream of consciousness essay...

without accents or proper grammar

im probably gonna do it here.

As soon as i finish this cup of cocoa.

ick, perpetual onion breath, i really need to cut down on the onion haha.

anyways.i have the stream of consciousness thing down, now if only i could do it in french.lets seeee...

hmm stream of consciousness..

stream...

stream.

streamminnggg...

A rhyme makes me feel resolved, like red lipstick, like hot metal slides, like cutting into earth, like killing fruit flies.

Love she love me love we love they. Fiction is fact its the fact of the day.

You have to love something whether night or day.

Curse these breasts!

Curse these lips!

Curse these eyes!

Curse these hips!

quand j'etais un petit fille...

ugh why cant i get started, maybe later

ok i guess ill just translate this later...

When i was a little girl, 

a little peice of my heart went missing.

I painted myself into oblivion.

Where i was allowed to desire.

where i experienced smallness,

where my breasts became white flags.

they were beautiful.

there was a small miracle between my thighs.

I was cleaning them, I was stuck in the bathtub

and the hair from the drain over took me.

Slowly.

First my toes and then my skin.

Back up to its root from where it originated.

Each strand seeking out its assigned follicle.

The forceful pilgrimage home.

Strangling me, taunting me

"you dont have a lover"

it said

"you will be alone"

it said

"I will over come you!"

Mighty, it was.

It wove me into a cocoon, and deposited me where lovers knew not. It reversed me in a way so cruel. It sewed me in a manner so quick and so careful. Stop motion.

With piano.

With fervor, forever.

It quilted me. stitched me. wove me slightly. Put me on a loom and wound me very tightly. Looked me in the eyes and spun me quite rightly. 

But this is not the end of me. I could not let it be. For the heart could not bear it, It goes on buzzing  long after all logic is lifting, After all gold is guilded. makes perfect product while the universe is regifting. In some small place it never gives up, it has not reason within it. To strain is to sup.

I trembled in a twine so lowly i struggled to feel cold. Here is the troubador. He called to me by name. He told me where to begin. He did not lift me but put me in this spot. He took all i had carried, sexed what he begot. He came to me slowly in my ear.

Let the breath tell me what to hear.

Let the music stroke and fondle all things cochlear.

Ici. Ici. Ici. haaaaaaaaaaa he's here.

Its true it never happens as one had hoped, as one had mapped.

Pinks and blues in a lovers grid spat. Legends and keys not at all as they say.

Liars they are!

Theives they are!

but this is they.

How they have always been. Beginning to regift, beginning to respin.

Woman after woman, coyly but wanton.

Ici.Ici.Ici. haaaaaaaa

But I am not angry.

But whats to release when you have nothing left?

Three words still and static in my breast.

Ici. Ici. Ici. 

I wish you were here, I wish you were mine, so old and so new, at the same time.

youre just a kid

i love you because youre just a kid.

You look so young, you look so innocent.

But you've aged.

So new and so old at the same time.

I think I was there for those trying times.

At least id like to think i was.

I feel i could protect you and nurse you.

Be humbled by you and stretched by you.

Be sure of how wise you are.

And yet you still look so new.

so new.

she walks too

Today went for a walk, not a run, a walk.

Not only this, but a slow, invasive, meandering, consuming, walk.

I saw two dachsunds a pomerainian, and a mutt that looked like a sheep dog.

Some peices of blocked styrofoam underneath black plastic and tied, they were massive, monolithic really, in the sun they reminded me of mecca. I wanted to circle them in prayer, and imagine something beautiful and sacred was in it. Maybe the corpse of a june bug, or dried hydrangeas, Your skin, or your eyes, or your touch. I could think on these things for hours.

And the pavement looked like you, course, unrefined, everlasting, illuminated.

And the wind blew past me, and through me, like a great wave, and almost enveloped me, but devoured me it did not.

And when it grazed past my cheek, I imagined it was you. In some strange suspended reality where it would be okay.

Then we found a trampoline, and we used it, and each time my stomach flipped reaching the heighth of each bound and recoiled only to be brought up again so high, I knew it like i knew you, In some small world where we can be.

And when i returned home and brushed the tangles from my curls and slid my fingers from root to tip, I imagined it was you again, In some strange place where you can touch me.

so, i think i might move to LA. the more i think about it, the more plausible it seems, the more likely it seems, and the more right. I told my dad, he seemed to think it was a good idea, I mean, even if nothing comes of it, at least i tried. Its just that i cant seem to think of anything else but film lately, its consuming me. Short story here, short story there, this would make great exit music, this is a sex scene song, a woman holds a child, a man gives in. Things like that, and all these beautiful tapestries of color and composition keep coming to me in the form of a rectangle, and all i need to do is get them moving. All i need to do is get me moving.

Im so afraid, but also pushed, by something unnamed, i cant put my finger on it.

I have no idea how this all will pan out, but for some reason i just feel like this is a good idea.

On the other hand, i wouldnt mind working on a boat in bora bora for a year or two. 

Whenever, whatever.

Its now or never i think.

nervous,

jcole