I’m not sure what this means, but suddenly people are using umbrellas in Seattle. There was so much to say when I was in bed. Maybe I should go back there. Maybe it’s worth saying something about that feeling after craniosacral, when suddenly it was like someone else was in the room. I mean I could sense the pulsing of the light, but in a different way. Not a way that was attacking me. Let me try again: this feeling like suddenly I was connected, connected to something other than trying to push through in order to arrive, in order to feel anything except the feeling that everything is too much. Then I sat in the waiting room, and I felt that calm like a high something familiar from the past, but also in my body right here, this is what I want. When I got outside it was kind of startling how bright, a very slow walk home, tiring, but that moment when my breath suddenly got larger, that’s what I mean, when it was like suddenly my body wasn’t working against me, everything could open, was opening. Opening: that’s what I’m trying to get to.
Suddenly I’m thinking about all the guys I met years ago in backrooms in New York when I was a hooker, and then if we had a conversation afterwards they would ask what do you do, and then when I told them they were shocked. Unfortunately, gay culture has only become more hypocritical since then.
It’s not a good feeling when you’re sitting on the toilet and it starts to overflow. This is not a metaphor. Since I might be running late, I better check the bus schedule again, and then write about it. Okay, I’m about to leave the house, so I better check the weather again. Okay, I checked the bus schedule again. Obviously, I better change into green socks before leaving. We make art from our neuroses, do but do we make neuroses from our art? In this dream, I’m looking at the paint job in the park, and it’s the clumpiest thing I’ve ever seen, but then I realize all of the protruding parts at the bottom, they’re swans.
There’s something about the smell of the shiitake mushrooms cooking with the quinoa in vegetable stock that makes me think this might be a good day, which probably means I’m feeling a bit delusional. The best thing about the rain is the fresh air. I open the window, and there’s a gust of fabric softener hell—this is my bedroom, what I’m sleeping with, this headache. Okay, I’ll open the other window. If we lived in a better world, fabric softener would be abolished from the face of the earth, but instead we’re still dealing with the meltdown at Fukushima. But, wait—there’s a computer on the phone with me, making a special offer on air duct cleaning. There are no air ducts in my apartment—I’m so glad I picked up the phone. Indecision is definitely a sign of indecision. Still not sure what it means when I say how are you to someone on the street and she says: I’m blessed.