I only write when you’re not there to read
6th April 2009I only write when you’re not there to read. I wastefully collect dust bunnies and chuck them in the bin and smile because something so gross took the name of something so cute. It reminds me of me. How appropriated everything of mine can ever be. When I create stolen-idea-you I see it running with a grey hoodie on, up over your head. Not like a hoodlum. Not like a runner. Like a writer who runs. Who knew so many people were doing things so opposite? No one told me but that could be because I wasn’t listening. I was very busy cultivating culture shock and sating inherited appetites for the sake of prosperity. I bet you were writing. It makes sense to me when I think about the time. But it’s pointless to blame stations and chained links and other everythings we had no hope for, no hope of. Right? In this one eternity I’ll make believe it’s just you and me and me and you because I take up a lot of space in minds and I want to fill yours ‘til you pop like stardust. Clean and ready for the next blow.
I want to tell you what I’ve been thinking about: tattoos where, shooting video game villains, your hip bone grinding mine to a fine jelly. Not necessarily in that order. Let’s hide under the blanket now. I’m feeling hapless and undiscovered.
7th April 2009 at 10:32 am
Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn’t it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up.
7th April 2009 at 8:35 pm
Oh is that what that is?! Thank fuck. I thought it was a tumour.
9th April 2009 at 4:20 pm
hapless and undiscovered, yup, I’m there. but then I just get pissed and find someone else who’s got a better map and a better sense of adventure. “get down there indiana, find the treasure I hid for you. that’s a good boy.”
20th April 2009 at 1:02 pm
I’m catching up on my blog reading. It’s a lot of fun. I like that stardust image, when I get excited about something I read or write it feels a lot like that. Your last paragraph reminds me of regular bits in my notebooks where I write ‘I’ve been thinking about…’ - interesting that I need to tell myself about myself!