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[14Mar201202:58pm] [ mood despite the sunlight ] ��I just screamed FUCK and slapped my hands on my kneecaps so hard in frustration that they're still stinging, ten minutes later. (Taxes, the doing of or trying to do of) Times like these I wish I had a roommate who would be like, "Yo. Let's go get a smoothie and chill for a second." ��Saw the shrink this morning, first meeting. He's great. Young guy. Gets it. Speaks my language. Creepily totally gets it. To the extent that I had a flash of, "So can I pay you $150 an hour to just be my friend?" ��Started the herbs and veg seeds. Connor is taking Friday off of work so that we can plan out our brother-n-sister backyard+roof gardens. Turned me on to which is pretty rad and where we will get our pallets from. I can use the out of date course catalogs I ordered too many of last year as the cardboard beneath them. ��3 Streetopia books in the works on my living room floor. Whatever lives under the floorboards in the corner is really irritating me. The mice have more or less left, but there is still something there. ��I wrote a little, but to what end. I planned a little, but to what end. I talked with Brien The Shrink a little bit about the trouble as I saw it. I described it as a circuit not connecting. He called it a gap. I can, the night before, hour by hour plan out the next day, what should be accomplished and when, how to make it comfortable, or how to maximize it. It's not a matter of lack of desire. I desire to be the person who does these things, very very badly, who sinks teeth into projects and days, who vibrates with love of purpose. But on waking the circuit doesn't touch & close, and I face the gap. It's not that I don't think these things should be done. They just shouldn't be done by me. This is not laziness, it is larger. Why should I even be here. Why on earth would anyone want me to do these things. This is not an inferiority complex, it is something larger. Leave it at why.

[09Mar201203:53pm] [ mood jay ] I had a really good dream last night. Dave and I were going to hang out somewhere later but I was at this performance which was actually a strip club. All our friends kept filtering in and we watched these naked women in this really peaceful bemused way, kind of like when you're channel surfing and you have that moment where everyone gets caught on the same thing and into it but no one says anything either in favor of staying on the channel or finding another one, you just all sit there with a shared silence mellowed a little by mutual agreement. Eventually it ended and we thought we would go to wherever we were going and I pulled these two half melted popsicles out of the freezer and was trying to put my coat on and put one in my mouth and was like hey hold this and he did and then we went through a doorway to outside. I think I had this dream because two of my thoughts before falling asleep last night were, "I think performance art is actually really stupid, actually," in I guess sleepy defiance feeling kind of bummed about feeling blown off by Abe who works with a lot of that stuff, and also thinking positively about how the cluster of people I know right now who are struggling and near-suicidal are all actually better than that and we will all be better soon, which I'm not sure if I actually believed but thought it was important to say in my head. I'm writing about this because it was the first pleasant dream I've had in months, because I have nightmares every night and I wake up every few hours. But last night I slept through the night completely and woke up really happy and feeling like I should be laughing,Coach Outlet, like whatever was on the other side of the door to outside in the dream was the waking existence that I was entering by opening my eyes and that it was worth laughing about and that everyone would be better out there/here? And the funny thing is that I went to where I'd parked the car so I could go grocery shopping and return the car, and I got an early morning message from Dave that read 'CHEERS FOR MORNING! CHEERS FOR ALL! WHAT ARE YOU DOING TODAY?' and that was so out of the ordinary that it was as if I had woken up into another better version of it all. I got into a small car accident a little while after that because an oil truck was in the way, but it was insignificant enough that I drove away without even stopping. Whatever, man. I've got a lot of plants now this isn't even all of them.

[07Mar201209:36am] [ mood S.O.T.U. ] Spent a while writing and trying to explain what's going on in a broader context; useless documentation. Lemme just tell you this: the hope of the last several writings is gone. James and Thomas dropped me off yesterday after practice and thank god they drove away quickly because I collapsed weeping before I even hit my front door. I went to Booklyn hours later than intended; Felice and I planned travel, we went to lunch and sorted the game plan for the international show I'm assistant producing, barely settled back into the office and James was downstairs, drove me to get the keyboard, forgot the keystand upstairs, drove to pick up my CSA, drove to his for practice, realized I'd forgotten the fucking cord,Moncler Sale, took the car keys and drove back to mine while the boys settled in, drove like molasses crying up Flushing Ave, sounded like shit in practice, multiple panic attacks barely fended off, almost cried in front of them, as we were wrapping up sat on the floor smoking and staring at the pole that holds up the loft, Dave also exuding this same thing, we are mutually nearly suicidal, I find it comforting and terrifying when in the car later James asks him if he's okay and he just says No in a scary way, instead of repairing the book that I promised I would repair quickly I say fuck it I am a mess of mascara I take off my clothes I don't clean up I get in bed thinking somehow it will get done, later, along with the rest of everything that needs doing or needs me, or maybe it won't, my soul is just fucking gone, lordalmighty maybe this is it

[07Mar201209:06am] [ mood backward ] (1 MARCH) booked the doctor. worked from home. worked from work. working at a bar while drinking wine waiting for behzad's show to start. decided to go. wanted to go, but decided in a whim. mom and gram in the hospital. nowhere really to go. needed someone else to decide the current. pleased to find the current having lead me to industry tix at a good show on its way to broadway. all i have to do right now is stay buoyant. next shore i nudge will be monday. cast off immediately, fly home. next shore i nudge will be saturday. spend it gardening,Vibram Shoes, hauling dirt. all these things are going. i don't have time for breath or the end of anything, and so my life is safe. i don't have time to end it. when i hit the third shore possibly the desire to will have been left at sea.

[29Feb201211:37am] [ mood next ] Despite the tone in this journal lately I am not defeated. I recognize the absurdity and ugliness of it. I am doing my best to be aggressive and preventative before I become dangerous. I'm setting up psychotherapy and looking into temporary psychiatric assistance. I'm in Chicago for a week -- and the week that I thought I would be having (madcap work + madcap AWP events + madcap time with Abe) is no longer a part of my reality -- and so I am treating it like a training ground. I have one week to perform consistently despite the absence of soul in my lived experience. The more I do it, is my hope, the better nest I am preparing for when my soul wants to return. I have let the place it rested become undesirable. I shouldn't be surprised that it took off. But the fact is, though I am nearing a dangerous point of desiring absolutely nothing (that is, my wanting and needing self approacheth the textbook description of 'loss of interest in previous herp derpage' -- said herp derpage being everything from my suddenly absent desire to kick ass at work, my absent desire to pursue and correct things with a romantic partner, my deflated interest in radical politics, my absent desire to see my friends, my absent desire to write, or play music, or fuck or eat or even be awake), the one thing I do still want fiercely is for my fucking soul to return. I respect and understand why it has left. But I am committed to building it a fucking baller castle-nest to return to.

[27Feb201212:00pm] [ mood k ] Took me 3 hours to leave my house yesterday and 9 to work up the moxie to do it! To see my friends! At this point I am documenting this out of sheer anthropological amazement! I feel like I am having a major break with/from a reality that was extremely recently almost vibrating with intensity and truth. I'm actually getting scared. I can look back at the dates and see that it was only two weeks ago that I lived in a different place and was a different person. This does correspond with how long I've been sick. But I can't fathom a virus that triggers a nervous breakdown. I feel closer in my mental state to the time of my nervous breakdown than I have in 5 years -- the suddenness of it is terrifying. Like the faith drained out. The investors in my economy have withdrawn overnight and I am in spiritual and social debt.

[26Feb201205:36pm] [ mood itless ] What did I do today? What did I do? I spent it in bed. I booked a hotel. I fixed a credit card charge. Those things took twenty minutes. I read and fell asleep repeatedly. I have no excuse. I wrote nothing. I screamed internally. I have been doing this for half of a month. I can't fake it. Increasingly there is no it to fake. Today I wrote nothing. Every day I write nothing. The manuscript I am working on is as close to about writing nothing as possible. The substance of nothing. I may be kidding myself. Jon Stewart commenting on Romney -- "So, I see, you're saying he's saying everynothing."

[20Feb201212:38pm] [ mood mid february ] It was spring. We weren't ready, but it was spring. The birds said so. We decided to prepare a garden. It was certainly possible that we could still be caught by a whip of freezing. We wanted to grow things. If we couldn't see it in our own bodies we would make entirely new ones and watch them.

[16Feb201203:08pm] [ mood february summary ] I need sustainability and structure. I want amphetamines. I need a good referral. My life is stunning and my brain is suffering.

[16Feb201202:17pm] [ mood drafting ] The house that burned now resembles a construction site of the lowest possible budget; it's getting under my skin. The generator runs constantly, the three demo guys scream at each other all day, debris crashes from the top stories down. This mirrors so closely my internal existence -- it's getting under my skin. I'm trying to finish a manuscript. The Most Desirable Person In The Universe and I are no longer sleeping together. I'm behind at work on all counts. The keyboard is here. Thomas is our new band manager. I need to buy a vacuum. Every day a shock, a need. We are lost in this winterless winter. There is no direction for the root. We lost the script. We bloom and rot simultaneously. The change rolls fast. Daily editing. Hurl it into the dumpster. Make it something new.

[03Feb201201:08am] recent developments that merit recording: i have been made the head of education at booklyn, meaning i am responsible for revitalizing the program within the year. i'm writing our first major document in years, which will be the first draft of what will become a substantial educational manuscript on contemporary artists' books. i have also been made the assistant producer on the multinational show we're developing & curating & sending to beijing. this means $$ & finally some associated breathing room. i successfully scouted our new designer & won what felt like major respect for finding her (after the org had been searching for several months and pulling up candidates i kept vetoing -- this is less a 'if you want something done right...' thing and more a really satisfying instance of putting my money where my mouth is) i bought an extremely (to me) expensive musical instrument, which (to me) signifies & solidifies the part of my life where i say that i am a sometimes musician. my commitment to learning is firm. i feel good about it. i no longer identify as vegetarian though i do prefer to cook that way for myself and for other people. i thought abe might come round last night for dinner & quietude in editing/indexing a huge manuscript, & so gathered up things to make a really great meal, but he didn't. so i brought my quasi-date with me over to dave & ashley's place and cooked it for them, instead. i felt good about that, too. tia and i spend at least the wednesday of each week sitting across from one another at her kitchen table ('the office') on amphetamines working fiercely in quiet solidarity. the university has made an unprecedented move and offered her another year, an extension of her fellowship & corresponding directorship. essentially, 'please don't leave us; we had no idea the program you head could kick as much ass as you've made it kick.' galleries and readings abound. the focus and calm in my life lately stems from this. even though the transition was difficult -- i was so aware of the loss of time (that is, loss of time that i'd been spending luxuriating in sloth & soulcrushing brainlessness -- it is very easy to waste time and become so accustomed to wasting it that you feel you DESERVE to waste it, on a schedule with as much freedom as mine). but, then, why do i live where i live? why do i do what i do? not so that i can have the luxury of trawling someone's netflix account for hours just because a morning dared to start overcast. i live where i live and do what i do so that i can live and do FULLY, and that means scheduling appointments, planning meetings, going to museums, doing studio visits, going to gallery openings, attending readings and book releases, having drinks with my deepest kindred confidants before they jet to switzerland, volunteering for urban farm development with my CSA, actually finishing a fucking book once in a while. getting so wholesome. i spend the day in body suits and chiffon and sweaters and scarves and heels and come home to have conversations with my future partner. are you still working, i say to the mirror. come to bed. i take my earrings out. i put on pajamas. i mean i wear pajamas to bed. i think about brushing my teeth, even. i bring nonfiction to bed and anticipate the errands i will run in the morning before work. something is changing, here, and it feels v important. the person i am becoming is emerging and i like her. god does she get sad. but i like her. i am just about as far out of college as i was in it when i started to become serious. these four and eight year shifts, they're powerful. it really gums up my brain for a moment when i come home at night alone and round my corner and can see the night sky by looking through the skeletal second story wall of the three story burnt husk across the street. does that make sense? by looking through the side of the building at the second floor you can see through the third floor and out where the roof should be. they're gutting it (of course) before they can tear it down. it's the end of a block of rowhouses, so no wrecking ball would work. today as i was leaving the house i saw a man throw a blackened radiator out a window on the third story. it didn't land with nearly the sound i thought it would. Posted via .

[02Feb201210:40am] [ mood 1a ] fairly accurate what i look like @ this point in my life / my approach to the world don't like this phone camera thing but unwilling to go hipstamatic what is a girl to do

[29Jan201206:10pm] [ mood black dice ] Coming into my grow-up jaw & it's the shape I always hoped it would be. Through the warpings of adolescence & all -- after a point, there's only so much you can take away. If the structure is there,Vibram Fiver Finger Shoes, the structure is there. You can see it in my six-year-old face and you can see it now. Physically,Coach Handbags, I am nearing completion. And then we can begin (or continue) the process of tearing down. Black my lungs and quiet my ears. Better not to think of it.

[11Jan201212:41pm] [ mood :)) ] Ashley always does my dishes when he comes over and he always has something to say. When there's a silence he starts a new point with, "Oh, so," or "Uhh, what was I. Oh yeah." He didn't like coffee a year ago but then he tried an Americano and now that is what he drinks. He prints his resume on nice paper and tells me about bad TV. Yesterday he beat me in Scrabble 388 to 275.

[04Jan201204:40pm] [ mood YOUTE ] I watch the people in Chicago find the people they will likely marry, and I watch them go to weddings together and look happy, the way they are -- "we" are -- supposed to be; simple and happy -- that is, following a simple trajectory -- -- -- -- and I am so happy to be here! To not follow that trajectory! To hunch on a stool with Abraham in Raf & Andrew's studio sharing a cigarette over tea talking to Andrew while he carves the base for a styro sculpture! To just look at his face in his bed, without going goopy and saccharine; just looking; it is so impossibly pleasant to look at! Abe! To come home to an empty room with a clean floor and errant gold and black balloons! To lie on it! Mine! To drink alcohol in the middle of the day! To spend too much money on nice food just for right now! To entertain, wildly! To stay up for 50 hours, none of them alone! To think about scooping a decade of debris from the yard and shaping a garden in a space I don't own! To not yet be fixed in place!

[28Dec201101:06pm] Out of your desperation to not be the last person left on Livejournal, you're all contributing to its slow death. Then again, this dull defection is tending to leave people who write meaningfully and at length, albeit less often, so maybe this is a positive cultural shift.

[16Dec201104:22am] [ mood books ] It was mid-December, and it was warm in a way difficult to understand. The Grimaldi's truck took off as soon as I rounded the corner off the subway at 4a, and the discarded bodega bags swirled indifferent, indiscriminate, above eye-level. What were we doing here, what on earth, and was it the right thing -- it had to be, we had to convince ourselves.

[07Dec201108:09pm] Why was I not a scientist doing something that made a fucking gram of difference for other people? Selfish stupid fuck. This was easier than having to work to better the world. 3rd friend dying of cancer in 2 yeaar.

[04Dec201110:36pm] [ mood hrm ] j/w why was this not what my desk looked like every night in college? i wish i could go back to that poor scab of a human and tell her it would pay off this way where it would be sunday night at 9.30p on vacation & she would be mega-enthused about work and she would be able to drink red wine again without triggering an apoplectic migraine and it would be worth it to burn & scuff off the very soles of feet that dragged thru coals and to tired & ache out those same soles that shirked the hoofing humping schlepping agony of academia bc the stuff that ends up carrying you thru it all is regenerative & leaves you with some awfully sturdy paws, built just as well for standing ground as they are for dancin'

[03Dec201109:32pm] [ mood winter ] Light rain starts on my trip back from the pharmacy. How easy it is here to take a fast trip before closing, waste gas, feel a little more powerful than a moment before as the director of the velvet crush of tire on dampening asphalt. Once the door of my parents' house is closed behind me, the feeling is unsettling -- & so without taking off coat or shoes I whisk to the sofa, pick up my book, whisk to the kitchen, remove matches, whisk to the porch, half-close the door & tuck into a soft chair with a blanket over my lap. I read for about half a cigarette before the whole thing feels stale -- the taste of it, sober, the smell of it against the wet late lingering autumn, the thin not even curls of smoke compared to the Xmas lights every other house down the street. Feels wrong. Feels deliberate. The light rain jittering through the hanging icicle lights, the wind kicking American flags. I couldn't finish my dinner. I can't calm down here, though I spent a calm day reading, researching. I drink 3 cups of coffee just to feel the nervous energy that I have come to rely on as much as a spine or lungs in New York City. I took my brother grocery shopping. He's sitting in the house behind me on the sofa with his laptop, cozy, & I wonder if he was waiting for me to come back, to sit quietly with me. The porch feels rude, & so I stub the cigarette. We've loaded up the kitchen with ice creams and sweets; we cruised through the grocery and I hummed at him Whatever you want, whatever you want, so happy to be around him, tossing a few bottles of wine and polenta and approximated chicken into the cart. I settle back down with him under a different blanket. If I get eager for a flavor later I'll eat a navel orange. I must remember to buy navel oranges when I get back to the city, I think.

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