digging a tunnel to china.

i wear myself out jumping on my bed. when i was a smaller creature, i treaded and shredded through bedsheets tunneling. coming through the tucked in part, i arrive and bound forward smashing matted carpets in persia, soaring high to land again. bedknobs, time travelers, mind benders. i love to jump on a bed. i always have.
i have an archive of bed jumping photos documented over the last million years.
it makes me happy.
i am happy.

i have a new song lodged in my head. its about people with nowhere to go. i am always going and not leaving. i like it so much.

the elegant universe.

a letter i read addressed to me reads as follows:
----
"in alaska there is town called whittier, where all the residents live in a gigantic concrete tower surrounded by mountains,the military built during world war two.
It's supposed to house thousands of people but i think only about 300 live there.
There is one other huge building, it's abandoned and populated with bears, and maybe some teenagers.
The only way to get there is by tunnel, the largest tunnel in north america."
-----

thank you.
it makes my heart soar.
i love you. you are my family.

i think about climbing.
climbing mountains.
sounds like a very tall accomplishment. i am climbing on a daily basis. losing ground, collecting stones putting the most treasured in my pockets. keeping them safe.

i have taken back to drawing things in the early awake hours. 

i also have taken to thinking way too much.


i am not a lamb. i am sheepish in a woolf's clothes. i will wear out.

i will plow the soil. i will tread lightly. i will stomp puddles. i will dust myself off and mend the many rips and tears that wear me thin. i will sleep, sleep, sleep.

i will break your heart. 

i will win your friendship over and over.


i will reflect light. 

i will be your mirror.

i will shield your pains. i will deflect their gaze. i will try my hardest to keep these things safe.

i will be paramount. i will succeed. i will overcome, overtake and i will give, give, give.

i will always give.

the tiniest sailboat to cross the atlantic.

that too.

weak stomach, iron heart.

i finally went to the doc today and he said that i have this ulcer thats making me sick. and thats why im tired but can't close up my head and call it a night. Last night I stayed up until 3. mainly flipping about, mapping out junk yards in my head. thinking up projects.



the dogs are going cuckoo in the other room, and im losing my lunch.

ive been thinking about pilgrims again. giving it up. making it count. pilgrimming. everyday the value of my collections, my tangibles, my needs lessen. what i mean is this...2 weeks ago my little yellow clutch bag got stolen out of my bag. it had my yellow ipod in it and my favorite green wallet, my favorite coin collector and some other crap....at the time i felt sad, but after an hour of being bummed i was fine. you win some you lose some. it serves me right for putting value on the truly invaluable. so what, those things are gone just as easy as they came. then last night, my phone slid into a melted ice mound and was ruined i liked that phone. it was fancy and pretty but im fine with this brick today. gone, as easy at it came.

all things gone. all things gone. didnt need it anyway!

i really like the way lou reed sings this one song with the v.u. he sounds like it doesnt matter, but you know it does. its just sweet. and calm. but there is a sense of trying. he is trying
i do believe, if you don't like things you leave, for someplace you've never been before.
i like it.


theres this other song i like more though.
i keep these things close.
a beginning. a middle. and end. I skip to the end. just beyond the end. focus. focus.
i read the last pages of a book and pieced the rest together.

when we were strangers

ive had this one song stuffed in my head. stuck there really stubbornly. ive been humming along to the train, to the voices chit chattering way. ive been watching hands on strangers, observing body languages, seeing what happens next, watching the pauses, reading lips.

ive been having nice memories, things ive seen that i am pleased to remember. i have many good stories in my library.

i am going to sleep, now. i am feeling well.
goodnight.

meet me here.

tiny inhabitant of a tiny village. meet me here and we can talk to eachother, without anyone listening in.

i miss the summer. running down wood stairs, barefooted, hopping outside, running down a street.
i miss tar pits. i miss impromtu everything.



the qualities of a tar pit are in its preservation properties. once i read about people who were frozen and crystalized from nuclear blasted heat, i didnt believe it. but i swear i saw the pictures. or i dreamt about it. the thought really breaks my heart in some ways, but in o\ther ways its a really beautiful thought to be preserved in time, at that moment, just like that.

just like that.
totally unaware. in awe.



meet me here.

the barringer meteroid crater

we are in the insomnia stage of this month. im praying its a short stint and im not even sure what brings it on. i tried to cut back on my coffee intake which makes my need for food become less and less. ive been snacking away on hand packed zip bags of raw spinach. i like the way it makes my mouth feel. i feel like a creature. i like that very much.



my heads been in the clouds. thinking about the way a meteor is. how no one knows it exists as it zooms through space and only when it reaches and passes through our atmosphere do we actually get to see it. and sometimes you can follow its course through and through and sometimes it just disappears.
and is that ok with me? not sure. thats what im thinking about.

i feel like im on an episode of the bachelor. like i have to prove myself or woo the hearts of many. but is that just not the fakeyiest fake that ever faked? im not that.
i consider myself pretty genuine. pretty up front but not in your face. and im not one to scream out "look at me!" pay me some of that attention you've got to give.

you have to give.
you have to give.


foggy brains.

the barringer crater.

it feels like a haunted house

it feels like a haunted house in here, only no strobe lights to make you dizzy and no matter how badly you wish and beg for the lights to be turned on...it might not happen.

but you don't have to pay.
you do a lot of waiting, though.

only because you care so much,

i choose to tell you these truths, only because you care so much. i will not beat around the bush or make rosewater out of dead flowers....i will share with you the facts and not just facets. or faucets.
see, i can still make light of the very serious.



i moved myself over the period of 4 days. most of it i did on my own.


i resolve to be better on a daily basis.

Mrs. Wolf, With teeth so sharp.

TO: LEONARD WOOLF
Rodmell,
Sussex
Tuesday [18? March 1941]

Dearest,
I feel certain that I am going mad again: I feel we cant go through mother of those terrible times. And I shant recover this time. I begin to hear voices, and cant concentrate. So I am doing what seems the best thing to do. You have given me the greatest possible happiness. You have been in every way all that anyone could be. I dont think two people could have been happier till this terrible disease came. I cant fight it any longer, I know that I am spoiling your life, that without me you could work. And you will I know. You see I cant even write this properly. I cant read. What I want to say is that I owe all the happiness of my life to you. You have been entirely patient with me and incredibly good. I want to say that-- everybody knows it. If anybody could have saved me it would have been you. Everything has gone from me but the certainty of your goodness. I cant go on spoiling your life any longer.

I dont think two people could have been happier than we have been.

V.

ive been riding my bike alot in the last few days. alot.

i chopped all of my hair off today.
lori used to say this: stuck in hair, stuck in life.
and then she shaved her hair? i think. i can't remember.


i have early onset dementia, im convinced. no need to webmd that. its just the facts.

good episodes of the cosby show on today. the smooth contest episode and this one looks pretty decent too.

stomach's been hurting me today. tomorrow, nicole and jeremy and i are going to look at art and things.
maybe i will go for a drive tonight.

maybe i will go to peoria on friday and return on monday. tuesday jeremy and nicole leave. signed the lease. i can start paying rent coming soon.
need a couch.

the best missed connection i have seen in a very long time.

Pitchfork -- Throwing up near the entrance - w4m - 21 (Union Park)

Reply to: pers-762175121@craigslist.org
Date: 2008-07-20, 3:43AM CDT


You were throwing up during !!! in the blue trashcan near the park entrance while holding a Sparks. Your jackass friend was just sitting there smoking Parliaments. I'm sure this happened more than once, so you were the one wearing leopard skin zubas.

I hope you didn't get any in your mustache.

<3

olivia made a feather girl project. its so cool. olivia is so cool.

http://web.mac.com/ssdhamee/iWeb/HSS/The%20Feather%20Girl%20Project.html

today is sunday. sunday. sun day.

i woke up fairly early today. i have not one thing really planned. our kitchen is clean and here i am soon to leave it. nicole and the jeremy leave one week from tuesday. I move into their home after that. and then andrew moves from new york mid month. i am truly going to miss those two.

what is it that makes me grow attached to people who i know for maybe not that long. but still, i guess i have know them for a bit. nonetheless, i know i will know them for futures to come....

yesterday in target, i was thinking about how jeremy is going to learn voodoo in new orleans and how when i visit them i will ask him about his progress and have him whip up potions for me and then i will use them. i had a lot of thinking in target yesterday.

today i had some breakfast, went to the bookshop and looked at new paperback releases, read some articles, started to read some short stories and then went for a 3 mile run. i can still run for three miles straight even though i havent since march. i feel tired now and my head sort of hurts a little bit.

i had this "aunt" when i was small. her yard was filled up with cement items like a donkey with a barrel of flowers and a progression of cement frogs with a sign warning "frogs x-ing" ...and just lots of stuff like that. it will be an memory challenge to remember what was in that yard...beginnnnn nowwww...

. a boy with a lamp
. ducks
. a small pond with a man with a fishing pole on a cement log
. frogs x-ing
. yankee doodle went to town on a pony. blah blah macaroni.
. small cement fences.
. rock garden
. plants

i spent my afternoons walking around the little sidewalks connecting all of the cement scenes together. for whatever reason, i remember a little white haired boy but in my head he looks like the cousin oliver character from the brady bunch. i think its just a memory from reruns of the show though. i don't think that was real. aunt mary and aunt ruth were not my real aunts, they were white lesbians ladies who were the friends of friends of friends. hippies. they had a mean white dog named snoopy but i really liked snoopy. i used to hang out between the wall and living room couch with snoopy. i took rests in the guest room and there was a tiny bathroom with a full length door mirror. the carpet was scratchy and like an office's carpet. the bedspread was bumpy and towel like. i used to lay on the bed and make face into the mirror and put my legs on the wall. upside down. there was a lot of talking to myself. i remember, most of my talking in childhood consisted of lengthy conversations with myself. hours and hours of that.

once we were preparing for a travel and before we were gone, aunt mary crocheted me a purse with a red apple on it. i still have it. i hang it on my wall in every home i move to now.

will i stop moving someday? i will stop moving someday.

i am collecting stones for my pockets. i am collecting stones for my apple purse. i will fill myself with stones and float away.

5th grade. mrs. herrings homeroom class.

i can't really remember what state it was in. she was mrs.herring though. i remember that much.

it was so embarrassing. it had to do with writing down phone numbers and t.j allen. and something else. she made me apologize for something that i can't really remember. all i know is...it was so embarrassing.

i was really pretty in my 4th grade picture. i was wearing that purple dress with the checkers on it. it was long. i was getting taller in 4th grade.

4th grade was really embarrassing too actually. one day, i started crying at school for no reason. i just got really sad. james tucker gave me some earrings at some point that year and i dropped them on the ground and ran out the door. it was really scary to me. we watched a video that year about lady's problems. The boys got to go out for an extra recess. our moms were supposed to come to the movie but i don't remember any mom's there. not mine at least. thank god.
that teacher was mrs. carter. It may have been the same state then too. i can't remember.

i've been feeling real embarrassed lately. sometimes thats just what i need to snap me out of doing seemingly "brave" things. embarrassment always puts me in my place. keeps me from becoming too big for my britches.

oh good lord. oh good lord. keep me grounded. keep me safe. help me to realize my limitations. help me to set up my walls, my boundaries, my solitude and safety. keep me safe. keep me safe.

i think i would much rather anticipate the blood and gore of things that could come to be within the confines of the walls in my skull than actually have to witness them play out in reality. it tends to be much messier that way, sure. but at least its not real.

i don't like real life so much.