elly.org / journals

April, 2001

April 2, 2001 - 12:00am

home comes rushing in

    this was originally posted at swinney.org. for comments and context, go to the original.

landed in sf on a beautiful day. i got excited before i even made it into the city, as far back as LA. jiggling in my seat and chanting "i am from california i live in california i am from california" over and over in my head. pressing my face against the window.

ritualistic cab ride from airport. beauty and chaos of city rushing in at all sides.

cracked out, shower, sleepy urgent sex. sushi and beautiful clouds.

coffee and bagels with weeb and swinney. new beginning in my old home: art classes and grown up errands. clean new kitchen, soup plans!

home home home. future laid out.

...

about au i miss: seitan sandwiches, sleeping with tuggy, climbing in bed with o and xep, revolver thai food. trips to comic book shop. comfy house and cheap food. sitting on the kitchen counter crosslegged eating soy ice cream.


April 5, 2001 - 12:00am

out of sorts (it's cute)

    this was originally posted at swinney.org. for comments and context, go to the original.

sometimes it's hard for me to believe i have a head. i look down at my body and it's just a pair of typing arms.

i bruised myself in yoga yesterday, staying in shoulder stand, balanced up on a vertebrae for three minutes (not long). the vertebrae complains now.

i seek comfort but feel awkward. i want to press my body against a lover, but my lover is a nervous wreck because he's a pile earth sign and muladhara chakra and all his comforts are in disarray: job, home, money. i want to collapse into something or someone, a person, a bed. instead i pace when comfort offers itself, pace, jiggle my leg, refuse to make eye contact, forget what to say.

leaving the house continues to go poorly. eating is also a trial. sleep is ok.

goal: spend quiet nonthreatening time with people who i know actually like me. people i can trust with this mushy center of mine. (i: softshelled crab, honorary moon in cancer, stay home stay home oversensitive stay home)

another goal: keep going to yoga.


April 7, 2001 - 2:16pm

teenwolf

/m oof full moon tonight.

[*oof*] yeah, dont let me forget to take my thorazine and shackle myself to the bedposts.


April 15, 2001 - 12:00am

vanity

    this was originally posted at swinney.org. for comments and context, go to the original.

six hours of hair pulling, some dollars, and two advils later:


"you look like a mermaid"

"it's... so many.. colors..."

"you look like george clinton"

"it looks like complicated fishing lures"

"it's stunning"

"well, we'll always be able to spot you in a crowd."

April 18, 2001 - 12:00am

uterus II (guts eating other guts)

    this was originally posted at swinney.org. for comments and context, go to the original.

woke up around 3:30. irritated about missing the day. i don't want to sleep all day. it's cloudy out, raining. i said to swinney on chat

[

wake up the first thing i do is open the laptop next to my head. it feels depraved to me to do this, it feels like a spiral down into the hell of chat and amotivation. like i may as well wake up and shoot heroin

]

"there's no way i'm getting out of bed."

and i paged my lover who i alternately feel is a healthy escape or a broken escape, a dependence, i don't know, i paged him with "save me."

but he's soft, i can't keep from touching him. sometimes i feel upset because i know other people do not experience him as calming. and i can't explain it.

and so i press myself against him and become a stupid mushy pile of a girl "oh" i say, "oh i feel sick," and he will pet me. now he promises to bring me coffee, now he promises to wash my hair. "i will even wash your back" he says.

and so for the moment i am a female of the tribe, bloody down there and full of hormone, feeling primal and amazon maybe because of this big head of swamp hair i have now.

i had to step over a mountain of dirty clothes and work my way through an obstacle course of empty and half empty packing boxes to make it to the bathroom today, to wash my face and pee, to come back in the room and find some dirty hole filled clothes to put on top of each other on top of my dirty hole filled body.

today is the opposite of yesterday: a motorcycle ride through town, the smell of grass cuttings on dolores street and spring oh spring.


April 24, 2001 - 12:00am

keeping watch from our fortress on the hill

    this was originally posted at swinney.org. for comments and context, go to the original.

it is our job to watch over the city
we hear everything.

a fog horn, a boat in the bay.
gunshots.

the j church line, rattling down the tracks.

sounds make their way up through the cold air:

white noise of
thousands of cpu fans
washing machines
car engines
humming street lights
people breathing in their sleep

from our perch we are audio experts
documenting the noises of a living city
on the insides of our heads,
to each other out loud

"did you hear that?" we will say, at 3am, after a striking noise
"what was that?" we will say, decide, and file it away

we are the masters of
aural worlds that drift in through the open window


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