it bothers me like crazy that this hip loft type look is all over tv and catalog and magazine pages. chic baskets, clear acrylic end tables, pendulum lights, metal, glass, those new looking kinds of hardwood floors and swedish lines in all the furniture. super functional, throw in that tad of retro or futuristic "to soften the look", everything coordinating in some perfect color wheel smear. that look is all over the place, all up in your target. it's like "look at me-i live in a loft. i love my loft. wanna come hang out in my loft? if you do anything to fuck up my loft, i'll kill you."

but i know the reason it bothers me so, which is even more bothersome, and that is that design is everywhere, everywhere! and i love it, i love all of it and i don't have the slightest how to sort out the line from the form from the texture from the color and how to put it all together but how i WANT to know and how if i had taken the leap years ago when i thought i was "getting a little too old to go to school for four more years" (ha) this would have been my last semester i think and through all my flavors of the month design has really stayed way there on the backburner, my heart barely giving it enough flame.

and why is that, i ask myself. you've been trying so long to figure it out what you really want to do, maybe you've known for a long time and are just wasting time so if it's design (and you think it is) -why not just jump now?

well that's easy. and it really is the easier thing, i guess, to just be so afraid that you do nothing. i have 42,651 reasons for not doing it (#1? i can't even DRAW), but only 1 or 2 little ones for doing it <i think it would be super fun?> i am just too scared.

but then i looked in the sunday classies today. and its offerings might just be scarier. no one ever says 'i want to be an account manager when i grow up'. hi little girl me: here i am. i want something lush, juicy, something that makes my heart sing. i want to work not with yellow or green but with 'marigold' or 'verdelicious'. how do you get to be the person who names colors anyway. i want *that* job.
how's "pancreas" or "psychosomatic".

i get mad sometimes at paul for not having the "secure", benefits generating, "regular gig" type thing that i do, and for doing things that he gets to create. of course part of the anger is jealousy, and of course underneath it all i admire him for throwing all the aforementioned "steady job" bullsheeit away and pursuing and finding. it's cool, but what happens if i don't make it? then we're forever on this wobbly ground, with a heap of degrees and debt. but what happens when i'm fifty and the kids i've finally decided to have are raised, and i'm always saying to myself "maybe i could have been a great designer? or even just, a designer."
yikes, i guess i'm saying that now......

oh, i love love love those goddamned clear acrylic end tables.

sometimes i get to feeling about how i feel things so much differently from others, then i see how silly that is because you just can't know how someone else ever feels things. it's like you think you're so different but because everyone is so different it makes you realize that everyone started somewhere with the same blank canvas. paul asked me on a lovely citytraipse, haven't you ever wondered if happiness feels different to someone else? well yes, but i haven't in so long that i said no. i forgot that i used to. wonder about those things and others, even. it is tough to get a little caught up in yourself, and in the humdrum. it makes you think that living inside someone else would be viral, instead of magical. i need some warm glowing oil into my wide open throat.


avocado, you fatty veggie
some texture that the gods have whipped
an oblong eighth
like the thorax of some delectable soft bug
like devouring those perfect juicy rooms
you only see on design magazine pages.


went to washington market today. cute, and not too pricy atall, for neither ready made foods nor groshmeries. my sangwich (california chicken) was super good and had avocadoes on it, prompting my props. i was delighted by the place, it was very "market"-y and downtown, which is just great. however, being a connoisseur of lazy pierogi salad, don't get theirs. that's all the smack I'm gonna talk.

every day
and in every way
i am getting
better and better.

can you believe that?
that's crazy talk.

i dreamed i was in a roomful of pregnant pious women who were having a christian arm waving and singing ceremony while seated in a big pregnant circle. i remember i lazed about on the floor, lolled from time to time in postures of boredom, and rolled my eyes a fair bit. i remember thinking with a small bit of fear, when the arms really started waving, that it was all very cultish.

the night before i dreamed i found a baby in a gutter. it was gray and so tiny and i thought it was dead but when i touched it it was warm. in that second i wanted it and something strange happened in my dreamheart like i would do anything for it, even find its real mother. there was a supermodern tech convention going on in a glass and metal building behind us. a woman who was tailgating in a desperate way with another woman and a sleeping child decided to help me. she walked down an empty street straight north. somehow i knew she was in search of some collective mother, some abstract "good". i didn't really want her to find it. i wanted the baby: half dead, beautiful.

what the heck is going on with these dreams?

evry'1!

my house is a perpetual mess. i have so little capacity for joy. i found out i am really no one (a quote, so true).

would yu like to have a party?


i feel full of a defective gene, a propensity for unrealized realization, a renewed relazyation. something pink, black, and aqua blu. the mobile of the future, wondering when above my bed it will be born to catch my dreams.

iwe have a piano, we never use it. it is the lonesomest piece of percussion, so out of tune. there is no day that a bunch of chemicals will be poured over it, and so it has nothing to look forward to. i am hoping to develop it. it is a resolution, that word that means nothing will happen.

bzzaz.

the time is near: perpetual night
for ungrowing in flourescent fright
for gloom and dim and scrounge for light
for winds and massive frozen might

to sleep, to eat, to knit perchance
to struggle with the limp houseplants
this is the waltz of winter's stance
a rhythm yet a ghastly dance

for now let color fill the eyes,
and sunshine be a sweet surprise,
let leaves be carried with the sighs
of autumn's final lullabies

goddamn it, that post just made me mad at myself. it felt like putting on an old glove. i went and put on a sweater and realized it's warming an old lady's heart. startover.


Song for an Unused Piano

i swear to god, you won't be
lonely for too much more long
there are so many gloves in the world
but i will come to you with these bare hands
freezing
i will play you like a virtuoso of goofiness
make you feel like you're full of chemicals
make you wish you were in tune
you and i will roll around on that unlived in living room floor
your strings struggling with letters, dying to scream.
i'd make it happen, if i knew how,
and your keys would tremble with my name
everytime i passed you
on the way to the teevee.