- armpit odor is not a science. you forgo deodorant, you sweat, you smell.
- there are lots of things to be afraid of. expired milk is one of them.
- it is not very expensive to fly from boston to atlanta. you should do more things with the people you love.
- sephora is the perfect place to leave a clown and procure an eye infection.
- how sad are you? not in words, in numbers.
- coffee is a stimulant. that last one was not a fact but I dare you to disprove sadness.
- cows that are fed grass cost more than cows that are not fed grass.
- it is physically impossible to run and cry at the same time. both demand too much of your body and lungs are more needy than heart…than tear ducts? can I get a fact check on where tears come from? in the meantime, dear, your sneakers.
- $34.50 is a lot of money to spend on leggings, but only $4.50 more than your counselor’s copay. there is therapy and then there is retail therapy.
- a writer whose name I can’t remember called cicadas the guns of august. imagine living underground for thirteen years to starve your predators.
- do you hear them too?
This is fiction. This is pretend.
I don’t know who that was in that room either or why she was wearing my clothes. Give them back. I want it all back. When you left you took the dog. Now I’m barking at my parents’ house.
Are you okay? What did you have for dinner? Is this permanent? Did you give the dog his ear medication? Do you read my blog?
so scared so scared so scared so scared so scared so scared so scared
I made a typo just now. it read sos
I love you. I’m sorry. Throw me a bone.
this is what i did with mine
- started therapy.
- picked blueberries. when you smoosh two together they look like tiny blue alien titties.
- took myself to the movies.
- went skinny dipping in a lake that was not mine. the moon took selfies.
- drank tea.
- saw a snake. it was not a metaphor.
- heard seals call to each other when I was barefoot in seaweed with my mother.
- suffered many a hangover then suffered no hangovers.
- ate tapas.
- discovered my mortal body at CrossFit. I have never been so glad to quit something.
- bought rollerblades, experienced the 90’s.
- took a poetry workshop with Eileen Myles. now my heart is full of Poe.
- fell in love with nutritional yeast, which is not a nasty in-your-pants-problem, but a vegan alternative to cheese.
- had eczema.
- bought two packs of 27’s, smoked a total of three of them, added them to the dumpster.
- consumed an entire pint of Halo Top ice cream. became an angel two times over.
- watched a little too much Netflix while zipped up in the AC, trying to navigate my quarter life crisis.
- started a book that had to be abandoned. thank you in advance for you condolences.
- sweated out my soul in 95 degree asanas.
- saw the solar eclipse from the high way through the car windshield. it was so totally meta
- read a lot of Ann Patchett
- and Richard Siken.
- and liked myself, with and without a machine.
- but how do you end a list like this? standing on a ledge refusing to jump 20 feet into the blue copper water?
- with a sunset?
- with kombucha?
- with the stars I drew in a notebook falling from the page
Right at home in Chatham with my underwear on under my boyfriend’s bathing suit, petting the water amongst people who use “summer” as a verb.
Maybe I’ll brush my teeth.
Maybe I’ll drink coffee in my dirty kitchen with no underwear on.
(The latter, but it is not a metaphor. It’s just been never since I’ve last washed the floors).
Next, gloat privately about my Scrabble win last night.
Feel overcome with love/gratitude for myself for playing qi and fi on a triple letter score but also, for once, I’m not nursing a hangover.
Bright tales. Bushy eye (brows).
Take a good lentil poop and have enough toilet paper
to cover my ass then pass
the cereal, consume the Internet, write a few lines of bad poetry
in my Moleskine-turned-diary.
It’s such a teenage/stupid thing to do, to keep a private, tedious account of things like “FEEBLER – 24 points, thank you very much”
And my bed is not made. And laying in it keeps it that way.