down in me

you used to be excited to receive an email from me. when the counter said (1) you immediately thought that maybe it was me and a small dolphin would do flips in your stomach. now you groan a soft groan and click away until there’s nothing left to click and then maybe you roll a cigarette and come back and click on my email and give another soft groan while you skim it before clicking delete.

this is how i see you sometimes when i think about myself. how many words i’ve thrown at you people. i think that if i were a giant crater my face would definitely glow like a pale moon. is pale moon a cliché? i don’t care.

did you read the insurgent yet? i’m not going to shutup about it ever.

i am excited about a puppy story i wrote that is forthcoming in elimae. i have never said the word forthcoming that much before. i get why people use it in that way, feels vaguely hopeful. like maybe we’ll actually never die. yes i am declaring that the word forthcoming is good and just and only pretentious in the way that attempting to live life is a pretension, that is to say, existentially.

when i think about elimae my body feels like a giant bowl of mashed potatoes that are really creamy because your mom mashed them up lovingly with an extra pat of butter and splash of milk. i want to eat me with biscuits and gravy and fried chicken and grape soda and throw up double rainbows all over america so that guy can come hard ribbons in his pants again shouting WHAT DOES IT MEAN!!!!!!!!!!!!!

i want to make reactions in you.

sometimes when i scratch myself i want to open a big hole in my chest and pour vodka lemonade in it and pump it out through all the pre-existing holes in my face.

oh my god i just wrote a long blog post! i feel good about blogging lately. feel like i am single-handedly reviving ‘the personal blog’. what? don’t eyeball me that way.

ok, ok, maybe i am not single-handedly reviving blogs. i just like saying the words single-handedly, it makes me feel driven. i actually want to be ridden like a pony.

i think what i’m saying is that this guy is also writing and sharing again and that fills the heart-shaped balloon in my chest with nitrous oxide and makes my brain tickle and my fingers go numb.

finally, in honour of the ani smith down in me blogging revival of 2010, here is a poem:

Some of the burns are to the point of scabbing and I feel intolerable

there is a fuzzy brown bear sitting on my sternum
he sings things and paws me but it doesn’t help really
i wish we never stopped writing emails
emails were the most hopeful
i lost something when i tried to gain something
all of life seems so difficult
like washing my hair was an accomplishment today
raising eyelids will be an accomplishment tomorrow
even though i have done it almost every day now
it still feels like forever
this turmoil
is good for blogging though, right
except i lied
my hair is still dirty
i implore you to feel me regardless