Chocolates for Sam on Valentine’s Day. Nantucket chocolates. Makes me very happy.
Going back to yoga.
Going home to order books.
Maybe exercise. Maybe write to CJ.
Monthly Archives: February 2007
Visualize. Visualizing. Visualizing Kilimanjaro. Visualizing the bright shreds of sun carved off Vivasat. Visualizing nails in the floor. I took a washcloth, wiped the dirt fingerprints off the bedroom door. I arrested qarrtsiluni. Exacerbated. You can tell there is no channel carving here. You can tell the bird is disturbed and fluttering on the nest. Puffed up down against the cold. Chilly nest, someone might have to fly again. Taking care, how dare, not fair. She puzzles, then allows. A dream of behaving differently. Nice things for others, not to get found out.
You big dog, you dirty dog. Birthday card for Kristin. I want to
Get tattoos and become a normal person. The dichotomy, the dogmatic. The woman starts to laugh. The laugh, the litany, the lost.
Pain in my feet. Cramps from the heavy boot. Hair falling down, escaping the barrette in wild strands.
Guilt drinking coffee without Sam.
She wants to know what is the story.
Small boxwood bushes shaking in the wind.
Painful snow. Hard crystals, dirt.
Asking, vague desire to ask for something.
Desire to buy books, Dogen & Desnos.
At the next table, the woman drones into her cell phone in a monotone. Sad face and sad words. Manicure. Hairstyle. Family. You know, what am I getting in return? Nothing, absolutely nothing. And maybe expecting something is my problem. I just thought things were going to be a lot different. … skiing with Megan…
Vague wish to go skiing.
I am not panicking.
Software engineering is the family.
What I wish and what I won’t.
The first signs of what to do with it.
There is Suffering.
I’m trying to write. That is suffering.
Traveling back and back, remembering oh yes, failing to see the point. What is this? The pale awareness leaks, someone who really wants to make it work, solve it through all sick thoughts, solve for x, for him, for her, solve through all, something to be made right.
Waking alone waking to the bare bones of a room and the bald pinkness of the light outside.
Waking into a zen of discouragement echoing from past mountainsides.
I am solved, I am resolved, I am in solution. Shaken, stirred. All my salt settles to the bottom.
Everyone is gone.
Everyone is gone and it is after winter in this cold café.
A need to relax the mind, heal the interaction. She is a poet. He is dressed in second-hand clothes. She resists friendship, the contaminant of it. He is studying in the hot, in the cold. She is working on images not words. He is dreaming of the garden. She is assembling her questions into a marble monument, he is handling rotten fruit and leaves.
Rust beyond the battlements, rusty sky and rusty shore. Apricot light. What is happening, what is the aftermath.
Dogen and Desnos are in my sights right now. Even so, not so hard to find.
Rusty rusty mind.
I am in search of some literature, I am looking for some lost literature, I am looking for some lost. There is no settling, no claiming I have found what I have not.
february 24
All the way to here.
And here is a powerful stranger. (Fronsdal)