my dear we're slow dancing in a burning room

i had an awful, awful nightmare. haven't had one in a long time and this one was fucking terrifying... (its actually funny on hindsight because i see where a part of it came from.)

but the moment i forced myself awake my heart was just pounding -- and then i reached out and called jy. i called him on his bday 2 days ago, i guess i've been thinking about him since. he sent me a message earlier today saying he thought i shouldnt visit after all, and there was another msg that was incomplete that i couldn't read. so he said he'd send it to me again, and this time i deleted half the msgs in my inbox so i'd have space. when we were on the phone suddenly i thought maybe he found someone else and was seized with a panic. what a selfish bitch i am. but he said it was quite horrible, when i asked if it was, and i just started floundering in deep anguish. the nightmare had disoriented me already i guess. its weird but i can go so long without really thinking about him except in a fond way, then suddenly, bam. it's like j1 or j3 again when i'm drowning and the flooding is in my core, from my deepest being. and i'm thinking... not again, not again.

i know i'll get over this by tomorrow morning and everything will seem bright or at least light. it's already starting to fade like the nightmare that was so excruciating and overwhelming and all surrounding for those moments...

i don't dream about getting married to him anymore ... although i know what song we'll sing/play at our wedding if we did. i don't imagine him as the father of my children (fuck the biological clock) i think about new exciting romantic encounters i might have everyday / in the future but then i can't efface this other plane of contained irreality, a refuge of the mind, where he is mine, and i just love him love him love him. i do love him and i always will. i know that the fact that i don't worry about our seemingly very separate destinies anymore or consider the future or our inherent differences means that i have isolated this love and consigned it in some fashion. i have removed it from the unravelling thread of my life and stored it. but i can't give it up, i know i should, but i can't.

my quiet heartbreak

Hi Li Jun,

Regarding the rest of that packet of poems etc. that you gave me,

I like the graphs. Regarding the rest, it's frustrating to be honest. So much

good stuff-- wonderful stanzas of suprising language or phrasing or

syntax (or all three) and then clunky passages, misspelled words (except/accept),

clauses with weird shifts of syntax, purely silly stuff. There are flashes of

remarkable talent that I wish I had been able to work with you to highlight,

but we didn't really get the chance. You should hook up with the writers

connected with Double Change in Paris. The often have events at Pointe

Ephemere which is a good place to discover anyway. If down the line of

yr life, you decide to shift courses, I think you would really flourish in an

MFA program in poetry. I hope you'll keep writing in any case.

Yrs, F

:(

aiya

bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored. bored bored bored. bored. bored!!!! bored bored bored bored. sianzzzzzz.

!!

thesis to the printers, THESIS TO THE PRINTERS!!! wooot.
now:
write french essay
have dinner w RUFFLES TEH
do french writing assignment
do illustrator/photoshop assignment
get thesis back and stick photos + "captions" in
plan lesson for recalcitrant kiddies
...
WEEKEND FREEDOM.
fighting!!

ps: ive been squandering hours looking at tattoos and lotus pictures today. photoshop is my new best friend !

waste

our mouths cruised
through obscurity
soulwave fuelled

speed bumps of silence
restraining unfeasible
thirst

sometimes was not
a protrusion but
concave temporary:

potholes of infinity not
yet chosen by words

this path was not meant
to be our final

but silence became your
crazy filter decided
on nostalgia

perceived tree death returns
you to memory

though what you
consigned still grows
taller than in the wistful mind

the most exciting thing that happened to me today:

I fell down the stairs !

yep, new lows that "life" has reached hahaha

off the radar

ive deleted faceb and my phone is dead... and charger nowhere in sight. woo its kinda nice in hermitland.

econ exam down, one thesis,one essay, one phot oshop assignment to go.

back to the crepuscule

in petal reach of
this toothless bloom
who knows happy is

no mimosa a stranger
can make shy

the trade of barbie’s wardrobe
for monochrome freedom
smells like lemons.

SURGEON GENERAL’S WARNING:

Persistence in Unreciprocated Affection Causes Stress, Heart Disease, Sleeplessness, Uneasiness and May Complicate General Existence.

I.
you are ugly like a scab;
I cannot keep away.

II.
inferno commotion
reverberates my fingerwalls
molecules tremble before
disaster agitating for f(l)ight

III.
the pain is unfortunately surmountable,
blood dots half-hearted tears.

IV.
two hands churning milk into frantic ;
four could have made some tranquil butter.

V.
still riddled with temptation,
but edges melt into flesh;
eager nails can find no ready opening.

VI.
conflicts of a contrary nature pitted against
an inert gas :
even sparks cannot ignite

VII.
I persist because
and succeed in tearing heal from roots
a small skinstrip;
an angry Roscharch test
I see the dry end on this napkin

VIII.
containment is the subtle shift
when outlines start to merge

Learning to swim

My love,

You have complained of stale
bread, when you think of me.
While I lack the ability to regale
I will try to fulfill your subtle plea.

If my life were a dictionary,
you would surely be aardvark
for being the top priority.

The scenario in Noah’s ark
floods me with rough envy:
if only we were the soul two of a kind,
flank to flank up the gangplank
separated from all else by strict sea
(except the rest of the menagerie)
my rivals could only drown behind.

Does this show of jealousy surprise you?
I know suspicions arise that I am robot
from tide to tide. But I assure you not –
though sometimes forgetful it’s true
with calls and dates, and I did buy
a pound cake as gift on Valentine’s (I now know
that is not acceptable/romantic and why)
so you should know too that there is no
deliberate or sloppy involved; I do try
(it took me hours finding the perfect pound cake!
and would have made my own if only I could bake)

With you, the world spins west
and all my directions are confused;
which way to turn my head becomes a test.
I never used to muse, but trust me I have mused
over you my amuse who have planted seeds
of strange flowers within my yard of weeds.
I don’t think I used to feel even half as much before,
still acclimatizing to life in the sky since the floor
was where I roamed. (See, you even have me
using words like “roam”, taking some liberty
of imagination; I used to walk everywhere.

I cannot comprehend your wondering stare
at sunlit streets, and star-filled night plains
your precious mind filled with the delight
of existence, while heart overflows with its pains
and trying by osmosis to learn, I hold you tight.

Quantum physics is a piece of (pound) cake,
but you are a proper Valentine’s present,
and I a gorilla in a crystalline lake
trying to swim.

Payback

speeding car in darkness late
pebbles like candy on hate
mocking a pedestrian bait
with misplaced konichiwa
does this somehow satiate
1’s entertainment quota?

six asian girls and a white guy
2 can’t help but wonder why
well curiosity can perch then pass
did 2 really have to ask
if he were teaching a language class?
what amusement from this task?

I will not go back to “fucking Tokyo”,
since I never came from there.
If 3’s swine ignorance were not blatant show
perhaps 3 would get somewhere
with “exotic” women I suspect 3 to crave
from legends of a submissive care-taking doll.
Perhaps if on broken glass 4,5,6… beg and crawl
I might consider (as opposed to a manic rave
about that fill-in-the-Asian-race ex-girlfriend
as 4,5,6… slyly try to take my vise-clenched hand.

And are the food snipes really necessary?
A friend has been yelled pork fried rice, another
labeled spring roll, I guess while possibly you see
good cooks in us, I’m sure you could find other
means of praise – no one calls 7 baguette or 8 taco bell;
save these slurs for the long stint in hell,

asshole.

-

feeling so sick with worry and stress - why am i so high strung?? i need to channel the energy but all it does is induce this very thorough invasive dread beginning from the pit of my stomach and extending outward like the branches of a poison tree. and so it fills, it fills, it drowns

fuck, as i told michelle, either i finish my thesis or it finishes me.

(right now it looks like a knockout in the first round.... and im the knocked out. but, underdog perserverance. put your money on me, the odds will win you a fortune.)

spirit of the lotus !!! FIGHTING!!!!!!!

5 hours later...

my postcard inspired by springbreak, and my thesis book cover (temp) :) it would be nice if i actually had a thesis.... (sigh)