committed to a large amount, awaiting a death of sorts, awaiting a pain, a pang, a slap in the face. built a fire that turned into more of a smoke signal. it burdened us all, but from it, working together with water to put it out. passing water through windows. giggling. i collapse into the tiny carpeted stairs and laugh about how i literally donāt care, for any of it, all of it, in the most beautiful way. āi just donāt careā, she says, hands up, laughing. in this dark blue flannel coat and beige timberlands. i just donāt care. a word remains on the tip of my tongue, and i never access it. it feels like barbie dolls, like the way the letter āFā sounds in the word āfunnyā or āwifeā. focusing on such specific nothingness feels as honest as focusing on the somethings which are just as nothing, just as obsessive, the same circle. in my set intentions to maintain relief over a past lover - i do not think of him once, not even once. my present mind only knows pleasure. my present mind believes humans are geniuses, over and over, as iām surrounded by all these inventions. the kettle, the heater, the computer.Ā āgeniusesā, i keep saying. and iām almost angry, because in some ways i know iām not supposed to feel that way, but i feel it. i want to scream it. we are all geniuses. we peel tangerines, we burn the peels in the candles we lit at sunrise. and oh, how the cards came to life then! the ocean, a real ocean on this tarot card. moving, singing. unbelievable. in our hands. the cards were too beautiful. we see 3:33 on the microwave, bright green, digital, and the universe giggles and shakes along with us. the kitchen is a dollhouse kitchen, the wood grain dancing. i watch my favorite scene in āendless poetryā, the part with the puppets. everyone understands its beauty. we watch the snake drink water, beautiful thing. thereās four of us. weāre entertained by laser pointers, condensation passing through mugs, warmth, the moment itself. my hands are big, soft. the trees dance for us of course. they dance so much, too much. the happiest of children. the joy of connection. the magic of living, of being.
i honor tatiana for bringing her three main loves into one situation. brian, alex, and myself. at one point arranged around her like a human altar.
titsay
turnnoffyourmind
origamiaround
yousharknotpass
kaledo-art
germansingergirl
