nearly 05.
hours away from the midnight that brings change
resolution.
solution.
resistance.
some sort of evolution i wish to partake
in
for myself and the world.
the christmas holidays were amazing. with sister, with family, and with friends
was really a warm time.
i was blessed with amazing gifts
and good feelings about the future...

wisdom teeth are coming, bringing excruciating pain - nearly a feverish isolation of throb -
i cringe in it's wake. i wake from its cringe.

we stayed for hours, in bookstores that looked as though they'd burn down at any second -
old barns transformed into hidden havens of literature. cheap side. a quarter nook. a dog that loved all and slinky cats creeping in and out of shelf and silence.
bought so many that i own there. that one specific place singled out.
where i felt at home. where i felt at roam. where i felt unknown.

it's as though i'm dying. i can be 90 years old right now, and i'm fading just as fast as here, at 23. slowly drifting, wafting through myself and around the meaningless and the meaningful that surrounds me. . . . a fog of my own anticipation simultaneous hesitation ~
where do folks like me survive?
some deserted island . . . . a cave cool and jive
some cloud white marshmallow . . . . hip on cloud nine

no one listens anyway - why bother exploding for any.

never occcured to me , that i have the capacity to font change.
it's amazing how a font can illuminate what you really want to say
words. like words. like ideas. typed and transformed, transforming someone hundreds of miles away
like it were they/ares

smell smoke. that of a cigarette. nervous habits keep us hungry.
or starving i should say. in a way that doesnt make it go away. the gnawing tastes like nourishment, right?
huh. who.
graduate. sit and wait
now.what?

run on time. years of do and done.
where do i go now
now go i do. where?

all her friends can say is aint it a shame.
truckin.
on vinyl. no caffeine to adjust my eyes
focus not found. quick call the dreams, i need something to amuse me.
or use me. ill take either at this point.

strange.
daze.
maze.
blaze.
raise
my life
up from the mirror
and look elsewhere
outwhere
onwhere
to where
i dont know
be someone, something, some body
differ
rent
paid and i'm clear of any accusations.
working my ass off, 46+ hours this week, and pulling in more. . . pay the bills, save the excess and build to run away
get me out of this shell
this shit
this ship
this shallow
pool of tear and blood
birth and death

gram isn't answering her home. it drives me mad. i worry. she knows that. i can't seem to keep it all under control . . .

rent is due and i'm broke. take that mr. landlord, and then leave me no bread to eat.
i dont mind, i got a love of hunger
needing.
feeding.
wrote a paper last night comparing the infinite needs of women - lolita and sula . . .
their eroticism, yet their naive
which ultimately creates eroticism because all is to be explored
nothing is tainted until done, and both women were put into positions where their social status forced them to be - touched, thus making them - open to gazes, touches, fucking
yet, sula was seen whorish - and lo a conniving brat
hmm, twelve pages and i just started to dig deeper
have to write three more papers, well, two, then revise one - the twenty eight pager . . . haha - never thought i'd know so much about midwifery but i'm exceeding my own expectations
have to prepare my departure.
tend my aching insides & approach the rain clad streets

alone. head aches from non which i know . . . reason.
cup of coffee, creamer doesn't break
pearl jam halo on the room. a dark outside. squirrels stalk the window, teasing my eyes with movement.
seek my part . . . devote myself, my small self, like a book among the many on a shelf
work today. all day. i dont want to. but do i ever?
the weird awkward interaction and miscommunication of employee, and the anger, impatient audience of customer.
got dressed but no thing to do for hours.
the hurry up and wake up and make up
then wait it out.
weight. it. out.
get fred tomorrow. excited and hopeful. to have something to love, to love in return. to save mutual - a blessing.
excited.
spent thanksgiving sifting through options of where to go and who to spend my lonely with
decided on sister, father and jaquasa - it was nice, until dad got drunk and we all felt we had to leave.
i will only be as good as you'll let me . . . . are you woman enough to be my man - that is one of the best lines ever. oh eddie, i dont want you but you make me want someone this fiercely - the chaos calm. i dig it.

listening . . . triplets of belleville . . . under the bridge. the shower running, unattended. coffee perking, uninviting. my eyes tired and uninspiring. what do i have to offer any one, this any morning. was thinking of writing something django inspired due to the new book i've found on the gypsies, but can't even concentrate with all this school excess and the personal reading i'm obsessed with.
few days and we give thanks. all hail you bitter pilgrims. headed south to the land of lake and dock and constellations that took notice when i've felt anything . . .
exciting to relax and avoid responsibility.
want to finish my few papers in the next two days to get my head clear and easy. . . easy.

saw jesus' son last night. a little slow moving but one piece i dug the nurse after the abortion comes in to get him and says, "she's finally comfortable" and he looks, "she's dead?" . . .
i loved the story and the images and metaphors of what it was supposed to mean.... however some was lost on my inability to give a fuck about the slow process of telling the story.
but billy was pretty damn hot.
that says something i know it does.
maybe i'm just another groupie
oh well,
group me
if i can stare at his face.

election day.
voted.
feeling disenchanted as i watch that electronic map light up in red republic dress.
i dont know what to say anymore. sad, mad, loss of thought and heart

thoughtful. reminescent. lyrics wind me up. and poetry cuts me down. i am in the middle.

he would be there, every second, every time i called teary eyed in the bathtub slinking through bubbles and salt, and he'd listen, just listen and tell me what i was worth, pick up the pain i felt, and blow it back to reveal myself, he knew myself.

midnight runs to his apartment. scramble into his arms. escape what reality there existed. breathe the breath that was meant for me, and share the lost of his music with me, chords played to the tune of who i was.

the first man that ever loved me.

now gone. now gone.

i miss him. wish i could talk to him and i'm sure i could. just so difficult at these ages of our lives. path turned differently. paths turned all around.

doula training is over. now i embark on the live births. to witness and not experience causes me some chaos inside, but i'm moving in a direction of growth. i am insecure, but i am always so insecure. i'll just do it because i love it. i love women and i love making sure they get what they need.

saw grammoosh and that went sad. every time we end its like we're both dying. we can barely end our meetings cause of fears that it wont be fine . . . next time, in between. she might disappear as did teddy or grandfather . . . or elliot or or or

not very excited about school in mornin, but it's life. must finish up this paper full of words, and get myself on to bed. sleep.

took only 2 drinks to get my mind on the page of gov't mule
my brown dress sailing about my legs, like wooden chimes, all around the trunk ~
tingle, mingle, single? plead some fifth disease, dont want no causes of interaction, interaction gets me no slack from the harpies.
ate fajitas, or as mr. pearce says, fah jih tas, mr. texas at his best . . . back seat of fast cars, cell phones before i knew what cell phones were, and all the consistancies of running away from home. far off lands of escape and tape it all down on a camcorder the size of a shrunken flordia. . . . barrelled on tiny pale shoulders, exposed wanting to tempt, and eager to flaunt
oh the youth. i was. i is.
i miss my jack. one day i'll run into him again. he'll be fine, and i'll be fine, but we'd be finer if we knew one another now - coping mechanisms. always in tact.
or trying to be.

25 pages of research and i'm not a good one for it. pass it on to someone with the energy and the passion.

night blogger. may you move in some other summer with some other queen.

coffee. discussion.
driving heads through walls.
comparisons
birth and death
him and them
talk talk talk
rant run rant, run, rant
we live and then we dont
and all we can do is wish we would have said something more
or said something less
loved for words
not for self
my body good enough to touch
my mind good enough to respect
my heart just hidden from

jack, my kerouac,
jean, my ti jean
wrap that lucid tongue up round my whim
lets us be music together.

watched documentary tonight on him. it was made in the 80s - my god, seeing him read and talk makes me crumble, makes me want to rid myself of these strings that attach me to things i dont need, and that only bring back memory and let go . . . fall into some state of stupor and find that delicious juxta-position of hallucination and reality- write on effect, no longer cause . . .

want to run over the peace keepers, and burn down the houses of the war mongers, want to scream obsenities and romances from the passenger side window going 90 miles an hour on some dusty highway where the leaves reflect on the windshield . . . all illusion and in love

ben harper soothes a mood i didnt even know i had. i wish my plants didnt look dead. what am i doing wrong? i am breathing to lightly for them to survive? should i talk their petals off? hmm, that would defeat some purpose i'm sure of it.
oh well, they'll either do or dont


my fingers are yellow colored. the heat hasn't been turned on in a few days. i am frozen to awkward colors.

~jacqueline

got my laptop
yeehaw
now i watch my hitchcock fix of north by northwest
really like it so far.
setting up poor little . . . his identidy i wont give thornhill, kaplan, etc
i have a volvo now, and i dig that - listening to music on the way to work or school puts me in such a great mood.
eating dinner out was nice. however, tonight i started crying .. .. i'm too tender in memory for my grandpa . . . seeing an elderly man cross the street and then wander through tough punk crowds . . . his arms were shaking, he was on the way home from the store, alone, rainy night, i just thought of my own grandfather, and the loss of youth and pride at that point - and i started crying. alone on that stupid street, in my heeled boots, and leather bag that i got for a gift, and i was so ridiculous. I wanted to apologize to the world for being so stupid. I had to walk to the car. Sit there a minute, reflect, and relax. . . still felt bad.

discussing hardcore reasoning of recognizing traits in folks
it's life and all we live

honey goodness tea. love it up.

talked to gramma today, uncle earl and aunt ann died ~ within a day of each other. they said Uncle Earl died of a heart break . . .i can't stand that sad. Wished i didnt have to deal with it . . . glad my grandpa doesn't - i hate death at some points. i'm so familiar with it but it's still so hard to taste . . i just wish those i loved would stay awhile. not leave me in my growing

i could go on all night.

can't get into writing my Flannery O'Connor paper so i focus on the guitar next to me, all dusty and tired, not ready yet to corrupt my aching left hand . . . all the lights in the house are on - as though i can afford it - as though the electric company wont really come and clip me off the grid.

a man, torn and tepid found me today - he gathered the last of his tender and realized my need for a coffee - offered it as though it were the holy sacrament and i consumed it - caffeine the blood of this deed . . . he laughed that i wasn't wearing shoes, liked the way my tattoos peered out of every step - the skirt hanging around my legs swinging about - "how many do you have if you dont mind?" - i told him. he was blown away and i could almost see the imagination of him devouring the skin not revealed by clothes - he liked the way i pronunced the word today and he hesitated to leave, promised he'd only shop at that store, and left telling me his name, asking mine . . . . "jack, lynn." he pronounced, and it was destructive enough for me to laugh - flattered, this tragic sweetheart that i'd never melt into - i corrected him, and he drew it in and tried again, and it was close enough so i gave it to him for the sunday that it was.

walked home from the bus. rain down on me. and it did. one cold october drop at a time and i missed everywhere else i've ever been - the damp soundtracking my solitude - my disappoint with my surroundings and wanting to escape . . .
this attachment is nothing more then responsibility and why'd i bring myself that ?

my first big doctor visit for this diseased ovary comes next monday. i am so tired of spreading my legs to cold steel . . . .

got a car. a volvo blue burst of metallic sunshine - yeehaw - can finally take the laundry without climbing that mountain past the capital -
wanting to smell my clothes clean.

gram's sick. a cold but enough to worry me.

homework and contemplating silence of the lambs. the word play, the symbolism in tattoo and animal - the senses exagerated, the lecters minotauring my brain - i stay employed.

tired, and running on a barrel of iced tea - wondering when the next time this motivation will happen -

there are words, keys, i still can't pound out.

writing a letter to you

boundaries
come falling
apart and come
twining up

i haven't seen you close up in so long
i wonder if that scratch i left across your back
is now a scar
that someone else suffers

this apathy you have given me
has carried me a thousand feet
to nothingness
where i stark stand still
interuppting the chaos
to show off my bejeweled throat

i never burnt books
however, chaucer
has been on the top of my list
re(a)d blood of page
all those typed pages
curling and ashing
goodbye middle age

hello twenty fuck century
all these babies so hopeful
as they hop skip jump into my eye
little catastrophes waiting to happen
explosions up in arms
around downtown
and midtown
and shit, this town, is useless

you were never as sticky
as you were
down south
smelling of sea salt
and insecurities
overwhelming yourself
confidence bursting rifled soul

i felt silent
sleeping on the edge of your blanket
all these new sensations
our own

midnight hollows
bodies in wool
curling up into the other
bite the base of the bungalow
as not to wake the earth

in sudan i met a man
running from the law
or the law was running from him
and he cried in front of me
as though he knew me
and i drowned in him that day
and became him
wept for all of africa
universal

cold fingers
spontaneous
out out out
where ever ya are
get ut
an let me type you
wipe you
fight you
my mind is a morning glory

am i happy where i'm sleeping
does he keep me safe and warm
does he tell me when i'm sorry
does he tell me when i'm wrong

will you watch me for hours

were we perfect when started?

all my life, it's a shame
all my love, it's just a dream

~ all these unecessary ranticles i participate in. the worried infection in my brain. ticking incoherently, creeping in my skin - like bubbles of tattooed itchy blister
when will say it's all worth it?

am i happy where i'm sleeping
does he keep me safe and warm
does he tell me when i'm sorry
does he tell me when i'm wrong

will you watch me for hours

were we perfect when started?

all my life, it's a shame
all my love, it's just a dream

~ all these unecessary ranticles i participate in. the worried infection in my brain. ticking incoherently, creeping in my skin - like bubbles of tattooed itchy blister
when will say it's all worth it?

babies. i am surrounding myself with. to hold, to help, to catch, to love -
doula - ablan-goding - hah -
had my first class saturday and it was amazing, so many beautiful bellies and women who were afraid and wanting to know if they could do it - oh sisters, we've been able since we began - the instructor was amazing, she was so enthusiastic and encouraging - i really do aspire to have that level of energy - she loves what she does - and that is informing these women, they CAN. they can.
I am blown away by childbirth. Where has it been for so long? i think the one downfall is me now wanting to experience it more than ever - to relate, to experience, to find my way through - oh dear.
the times they are a'changin

laying over the edge of a bed. i knew it was about to happen, i felt tinges in my legs, shooting throbbing pump pump pump and then the water broke - and someone knew it was to happen -
i remember the pain, the sensation of pull and push - ouch - throughout, couldn't run away - gravity buckled me in . . . i didnt scream, and i'm a screamer. just lay there, breathing - so loud - i wondered if anyone could hear. i kept my eyes closed so tight, visualized the cool river, slimey rocks on my feet, waves licking my tattooed legs. . . in minutes it felt it was over, a shining red pearl at my thighs - and i imagined him, the child, before me - years older, "you can open your eyes now" . . . and when i did - it was done. the pain. the awkward restlessness. and my child, the child, had come . . .
and in my arms, clean and in blue blanket - he was laid into my arms. such tiny lips, such a tiny nose, perfect folds on the perfect ears half hid beneath a small hat . . . . i never knew love before.
and that was just the dream i had last night. . . .

goodbye jesus, and all your best friends.

woke too early. i dont even go to fucking work today. laundry is a job. a three hour escapade to keep me from . . . .
what?
sleeping more?
drinking more?
smoking more?
thinking more?

and none of these things combined - or else it all turns so deadly. the outcome of contemplation is usually hibernation.
at least . . . for me.

i am so destructive when boredom hits. i spend money, i make comments that hurt, i think never is not enough ~
i'm seldom satisfied with routine. is anyone? no, but i'm suicidally dependent on freedom.

found a broken pill capsule on the kitchen floor. dirty and opened. emptied. not mine. and i was suddenly jealous . . . where did it come from? why wasn't it mine?

banned book week starts soon . . . i enjoy that week. be sure to refresh the stupids that we will continue to read every and all books. . . . i should create a petition to ban other books - i will join the ranks of judgement. literary satan.

list...
1. danielle steele - all
2. repeat 1.
3. anne coulter
4. grisham
5. patterson
6. king - to watch the crowd go wild.

next saturday i have a childbirth class for which i'm psyched. watch the babies come out and cry, swollen bobbled headed mucus stained love muffins. . . . amazing.
what a career choice, what a choice career.
the very core of careers.
birth.

start.
new.
now.
change.

there's a hundred messages on my machine. but no one says a word.

all these paths.
everyone has one. leading to their careers, their children, their soul mate, their passion ~
they all seem to know. and have reached this enlightenment, or if not an enlightenment, a contented sigh of relief. the search is over. this is what i shall do. be. breathe.
and here i am in my jacquel-la-la land googling over a thousand paths wanting to put each one on my tongue and taste it - yet it's not helping my wallet, or my soul -
my focus is ripped to shreds, and if that's ripped, i can't even begin to explain my sanity -
drinking or sleep seem to pass the bruises over the easiest.
where is my knight in shining armor.
or god.
or myself.
or my future.
why doesn't something open and reveal itself to me.
i have searched.
i'm tired.
ride boldly ride - well, i did and here i am, with jack fucking shit -
some memories to write home about, and nothing to fuel me pass go
no collecting rent
just paying it, over and over and over again
my fortune in negatives and my heart in shambles, shambling further with each line i type.
you would think by now evolution would have removed this sticky part of our make up to help us survive - fucking darwin . . .
no help for the hurting.

good night. breathe and dont flinch.

what a weekend?!?!?!
did it happen, didnt it?
i dont know. but i'm here now.

saturday trucked down to new paltz with dale, yeehaw, made it to brians where the gang was enjoying a keg, and the lightning bugs, while some dew frisbee took place on the front yard ~ much thanks for the gaming to my partners in p/m crime, jake, dean and zac. I had a great time, and the show didnt even begin!
got to the oasis, light rain to soothe the heat building from the dance, dance, dancing. . . .
felt alive and well, and smiling. buzzed, not blasted, and that's perfect to look across the room and see a familiar face and love them entirely a moment while grooving to the band
plus, mike's beautiful birthday celebration. friends, my family, celebrating years and love and time passed perfectly
dale, the driving man, was redbulled and prepared to head north, and i joined passenger.
home at five a/m. crashed and dreamt of the next day.

wake up sunday. happy birthday jerry. his birthday a trip to Spac to see the dead with warren. sister dropped us off, and we walked a bit under pine trees shading us from the sun, nice breeze, and good conversation (as always). Found our friends down by the geyser, and we dipped our dirty sweaty toes in the stream, so cool, so good, so nice . . .
savored some ice cream, much needed - and went to our seats inside.
good seats. and good view. heard the music fine and well, danced, danced, danced, twirled in the aisles and the music never stopped . . .
(was so psyched to hear reuben and cherise .. . .. i feel like i was waiting my entire life to hear it . . . and not just hear it, but hear it played THAT way . .. . touched me deep and full.
setbreak, meetup - hugs and more . . .
second set, dancing on grass, and with the folks i love dancing with
finally found a ride home with brian and jemita, two of the classiest, yet sketchiest, haha, folks i know. a wait to get out of the parking lot, but it was filled with selling beer, and talking it up over some DBB. Sarah stayed over at the place, and it was nice to have a girl vibe in the room with mine.
I missed her.
Then fell asleep to wake and go off to the life i typically lead - work. What a great weekend, a great bunch of hours spent with my rational mind in the foreground, and my dreaming mind dancing till the moon goes down . . . .
and it will be done again, this friday
i am impatient.

raining morning. albany, the gray city.  obsessed with maps, and the itch to drive.  leave again.  i can't remain still. and unless i'm in motion, i feel sick.  not sick, but distant from myself and what i need.  lines blurring on the highway, unfamiliar faces every day, different sunset landscapes, that's my pulse.  not remaining contented here, in stillness. i have hearts and heads to keep me engaged, but there's more to life then just ~ agreeance. 

going to spend my day off walking to the library, and then reading some.  living vicariously through h.miller, experiencing ventilation of erotic, exotic, goodness, through his lines

 

rainy day. calm, with coffee and pineapple pieces to soothe my spirits. mind on my blankets, but body in this upright position.

two days i'm going to be 23. what will happen then? will i grow up then? will i be able to communicate, finally, correct?

my mind burns without intoxication of inspiration. my heart churns without throw against wall passsion. my body learns that without care, it withers, and i have forgotten how to whimper

i take it.

goodbye july 4, hello july 5

luna sleeps
when i'm here, in the room beside
her.
she whimpers, whines, howls, hides
when i walk away
too
fast.
she's so insecure
my nerves are sprayed
and frayed
and i love her
i watch her quick breathing
dreaming
of wolves
rolling hills
of loba lucid huntress
scavengers of a grassy vastness
i can't help but
be infatuated
but so tired
i haven't slept in days

strewn. about and not. my apartment is closing up on me, and the lease says to leave, and i'm homeless. great, now what? money-less, dog-full, and the options are . . . slimmer then they are fat . . . and i'm not grateful. i'm wondering why i'm not healthy, like i think i should be but then i acknowledge that the stress of having a home, and maintaining bills keep me from sanity. i'm running in circles to maintain normality, yet, it's all there is to do . . . how can others do it and act so "oh this? this is so easy, just . . . ." . . . i'm just wallowing in the water of ... girl, you better get your shit together and focus. fuck focus. i'm experiencing 10/20 vision and i'm not even looking at anything, my dreams are blurrier then the reality. the world doesn't give me what i need and my own actions dont give me what i need

what else to say . . . what am i doing here

it's beautiful outside.
i had a wonderful spaghetti dinner that satiated my frazzled nerves & i know the bed is only feet away

peace, love, misunderstanding

jack

dont you fucking give me that voice - he said to me as i all right'ed him another time, through the kiddie pool of "what, why, how, can i, just somehow understand, i dont, but here we are, huh?" that's how it goes, and how it has been. just wash your hair and put on a new day, yesterday is the past, now is just, the past... and soon we'll ride our seahorses into the future, glowing our tiki torches wide and high, swirling up with glazed eyes, reciting poetry we haven't memorized, but if we dont flinch then they dont know, we dont know - right? you know? dont you fucking give me that voice. i said.

oh sally's doin fine
up in mississippi tonight
but there's a mountain boy that's gonna remember you
and sally is one girl he hates to lose
but she did what she had to do
and you know i'm happy for you
but sometimes think of me
up here in biloxi

listening to tom petty, and fallin in love with this song, one line at a time, haven't heard it in so long i forgot my love for it

. . . rich man paying the bill
driving a brand new car
drinking in fancy bars
oh sallys having a time . . .

sal is in up in mississippi tonight

mmm, today isn't as bad as i thought . . . songs make me feel so much better. so much better. . . .

love is ridiculous.
undefind and concrete.
layed out for me on beds in rooms i can't find.
tortured and dramatic, spinning dizzy the lines it was given.
hamlet's indecisive decision, suicidal swans, bending bloody over lakes frozen by time and couplet.
romeo in his underwear, chasing ginsberg with drunken stupor, as juliet licks her wounds up, beside edgar allen poe, swirling opiation tyedye juice.
ridiculous words, and ridiculous sounds
all mixing.

i miss taking walks at midnight barefoot in the silence.
i miss the stars.
i miss maternal love.
i miss curling up in a blanket on the front yard swing.
i miss the sound of the cows walking in the tall grass at night.
i miss waking up to the sound of tractors in the distant fields, not cards howling their horns outside.
i miss sunflowers climbing up past my window.
i miss a lawn.
i miss a bath.
i miss believing in angels.
i miss the flag on the flagpole i painted with grandpa, that he put up, that he built.
i miss the garden. the dirt. the seeds. my black hands. i miss me there.
i miss the poetry written on my walls.
i miss the smell of being loved.

i have mice. i have a motion to move. i have a will to be happy. i have a thrill to be melancholy. i have a body covered like a canvas of ink all color and chance. i have a mind set on something. i have my eyes set on nothing. i have it and i dont. i could, i wont.

Van Morrison soothes me this morning. Last night the nightmares wouldn't leave me alone. I dont know what made them come back but it was so . . . it made me feel 13 again. 15 again. 18 again. The last two years they've been at bay. . . lingering on the outskirts of my mind, and last night they crept back in. every two hours i was brought to wake by the things i saw, the things i felt, the things i screamed aloud . . .
Nothing eased me. I was alone. Felt like the dark nights at the house back home, where i would lay awake wide-eyed for hours, afraid to drift off to asleep, afraid i wouldn't wake up... the dreams stronger then i.

my wisdom tooth may bring it. For the past two weeks i've been thru some excruciating pain with it . . . and maybe those pains are transferring throughout and affecting my imagination . . . ? maybe the motrin has gone to my fears and started to live in it. . . bringing it about.

just waiting now for insurance to process before i can see the dentist. the waiting, as petty sings, is the hardest part. the pain is bearable now, not because it's less, but because i know it.

semester has begun. six classes, over 25 novels to be read. . . . i read about 15 so i feel ahead in some senses. i'm going to really try not to miss class this semester. i have a problem w/ maintaining attendance. i like freedom. but i'm trying. at least be there until march half so that i can use up my free absences after the cold in the warm days. . . . the good days that make me feel alive. i long for the sun. bring me my sun.

the flu . . . it's here. inside me. i thought the cold was bad, but this is death. striking hold in my throat, burning me from the in out . . .
new years eve spent silent. no voice, and sweating ...
and still it continues.

went home for christmas. was so good to see gram. and suzanne and her mom stopped by and i was just transported back into that mode of - child. being barely a teenager & giggling with the only girl who knew why i was alive . . . so silly. to bring myself to that point is just a tease, she is not where i am and i am not about to rewind. my entire life has been about rewinding. stay in the past and never go forth into what can be - only what was.
the family was the same. sarcastic and somewhat loose - conversations varying to no degree of significance. . . feeling a growing sentimentality to andy . . . that's good. i like it. his presence makes me feel safe. that's a wonderous thing. that sensation is rare.

dont have any new year resolutions. decided to not bother with that. just live.