welcome home

fried fish head
one-wheeled scooter rider
black cat with a bell
jingle jingle jingle

noise reduction

being in a couple may -- or may not -- temporarily reduce the noise, but be mindful that whatever was making the noise is not still around, waiting patiently in a corner, just biding its time, biding its time to start banging those maracas again.

the horror! the despair!

my not-a-day-over-a-year old laptop has a nasty cut across the front and a bit of plastic sticks out like unwanted confetti. now, if i could express the rage, the grief and the despair that this makes me fee,l i think it would go a long way to explaining consumer culture, the nature of the relationship between humans and (antropomorphised) objetcs, comfort shopping and the dangers of the information superhighway. amen.

jobless, or why panic is futile

so you lost your job. you gave up your job. your job ran out on you. whatever. sit and admire the view. your parents were wrong and life was right. you can do anything and everything and you will do it all yet. there is no right answer to this question. there is no wrong answer to this question. pack your bags. unpack the boxes. run. stand. daydream away. you're jobless, you're groundless, you're scared and you're free.

postcards

sitting on the floor in the far corner of my bedroom in my new lacy bodice. back on the side of the bed, playing with the stanley knife making patterns on my wrist. lying on the sofa reading my fifth book of the day lost in the english countryside with the famous five. feeling the cold granite table against my back talking to the star that became my imaginary friend for a long time. scrambling up a tree singing to myself watching the dog walkers go by. taking self-portraits on a bench in the park counting down to calm me down. riding a horse with the wind on my skin just like in the movies. enjoying the silence in a crowded city from the comfort of my leather friend-donated chairs. growing up.

frozen

bottles and bags and plates and twigs and leaves. criss-crossing ice links. shimmer static sun rays. mirror sky blue clouds.

reclaimed

there are parts of the world where we need to go to kiss. there are parts. there are. there. kiss.

drip

one day at a time a little drop of blood, drip, drip, drip. one found on the side of your bed. one on the path by the canal. one next to the dead rat on kingsland rd. one on the mirror. one drop, drip, drip.

market laws

availability of lips to kiss. single lips are available lips.

shoot

a pain intends to take residence in a corner of my body. it explores all possibilities. it tries the knuckle on my typing fingers. it assesses the advantages of the outside joints of my elbow. it settles for a while in my stomach and makes friends with the friendly bacteria further in. it travels down to the top of my head, right at the front it sits down and admires the view. it makes quick strides down through my left leg and plays havoc with my toenails. it places itself uncomfortably in my throat, lumpy. there is no place it can call home. it squirms and squeals and thrashes about and finally, with a big sigh, it sits in the right ventricle. the right ventricle. heavily. ploddingly. down it lays its blanketful of despairs. and it starts singing songs of longing and regret.

email messages with subject: hello

learn to be wary
learn to open with caution
learn to read twice, three times
learn to read again, between the lines
learn to fear the email messages with subject: hello

the shoes

the important thing is to concentrate on thinking not on WHAT you want to do, but on HOW you want to do it. then go out and get a new pair of shoes with your girlfriend the dancer. that should do it.

late

there is late for work, late train, the late jfk, late lunch, lately i have..., latte, and then there is 'i'm late'

stupilliness

the distinct feeling that you're focusing your thoughts on something so way off your actual reality that the distance between the thing itself and the reality itself can only be measured in gazillions. or silk cords. or maybe spins of a bicycle wheel.

blanked

i saw the hat
i saw the blue eyes
i saw the boots
i saw him seeing me pretending not to see him
i heard boom, boom, boom, boom!