Chaos / Accidental Physical

I never thought I'd ever know -- you know --

life --

I never thought I'd have it all figured out.

I never thought happiness was a thing that would come to me.

I never thought I'd ever know -- you know --

just knowing, like, absolutely,

any one thing.

I never thought I'd ever be quite sure.

I mean, this is just to say, I still think this way.


It rained the day I went to Alcatraz. Not real rain, more like mist. Everything was wet and foggy. Well, that's San Francisco for you. Sometimes. I took pictures in black and white.


There was a time when my feelings were directly connected to my fingers and it would all come pouring out. There was a time when I wrote without my own critical eye. And it was good. Remember. Now it's a journey through a checklist of metaphors, narration, imagery, concrete imagery, quantity, point of view, conceit, no abstractions, and sense, does it make sense. And the words don't quite make their way out.


Summer is a time for getting drunk. But I want to get drunk in October. And I want it to be cheap and easy. I want to shiver. I want to be looking for a good time do you know when I last looked for a good time. I don't know when. I want to get drunk in October and I want the sky to be black and I want the beer to be disgusting because it's two for $6 Boreale and I want to dance in a dirty hipster bar with young dirty hipsters wearing neon tights and neon sunglasses to dirty hipster DJ playing LMFAO before LMFAO was cool I want to dance like I don't give a fuck that I'm dancing with my backpack on like I don't give a fuck that I'm dancing like I don't give a fuck like I don't give a fuck like I don't give a fuck 'cause I don't give a fuck.


And the words and the words and the words. They're never ending. And they don't quite make sense. There's no need to try and piece them together.


Always sitting there trying to name the feelings. Separate them, label them, explain them. And always the questions when I'm not ready. I don't know yet. And I might not ever know. Maybe leave me alone forever. Maybe leave me alone indefinitely. I can't articulate. I'm not ready.

And I am so spent. And I am so exhausted. And I can't see anymore. Beyond myself. I can't say just what I mean. I don't mean anything. I can't articulate.

And now I shrug my shoulders. And now I am alone. Why articulate?



All we want, baby, is everything.


This body grew like a tree from the earth. This body wants food. This body wants water. This body wants touch. This body wants space to stretch its legs. This body is sorry about some things but not about others. This body is sorry for pushing Tino in first grade gym class but not sorry about being angry. This body is physical. This body and other bodies. This body and the accidental physical. This body is full of insides and outsides. This body is full of spaces for the metaphorical abstract. This body is science. This body is art. This body bleeds every 27 days. This body has a literal heart. This body remembers some things but not others. This body remembers the taste of another body that had just consumed beer and marijuana. This body does not know what it has forgotten. This body and the accidental physical. This body cannot make sense of what is not part of it. This body can count. This body is not sure if it's put its feelings in the right place. This body cannot actually see inside itself. This body does not know what's going on inside itself. This body can see outside. This body can't see in the dark. This body is protein. This body is carbohydrates. This body is vitamins. This body created itself. What is this body but a tree grown from the earth, and every spring there is rebirth.







What happened to the days.

What happened to the things I had to say and then forgot.

Today is the day I listened to "Good Woman" by Cat Power for the 121st time.

don't ask if it even matters because both possible answers are equally horrifying and i know that you don't know what to do so either kill yourself or get through it and live better somehow

after all, is this life? up and down and your stomach bare naked on the floor. if only i could be a better human being, then i'd be a better human being. and if i were somebody else, then i'd be somebody else. you know, like, whatever. whatever whatever whatever. every second that i sit here, and, well, who cares? if it makes sense or not?

every time you hit your head against the wall, say sorry to the wall. do this in a repeating motion, sitting on a chair, in the same spot, until the egg cracks and the yolk runs.

I'm Not Really Sure How True This Is

Sometimes I go through a phase where I don't write anything in my blog which is kind of happening right now. I think about writing in my blog a lot but then I can't think of anything to say. Don't worry though, here are some other things I haven't been keeping up with lately:

+ my budget (still haven't completed January yet)
+ my laundry
+ my journal
+ reading books

There is an explanation though and the explanation is that I have ADD. You think the above paragraph is short but it actually took me 11 minutes to write because I had to clean my nails in between every sentence. Is that gross? Sorry. It's my ADD.

I'm not entirely sure how accurate this "diagnosis" is because if I have ADD then probably everyone has ADD, but I am also of the opinion that everyone DOES have ADD and so do I, but because everyone has it then it's not actually a thing (except for people who actually have like real ADD) and therefore we should just start selling Adderall in pharmacies next to the Midol so that everyone can be super stimulated without period cramps and we'll be really productive and stop global debt, poverty, etc.

Oh no wait is that screwed up logic? Am I just talking out of my ass? Hmm. I'm bored.

dear natasha,

i read your poem 'monarch butterflies use the earth's magnetic field' and i just want you to know

it's a great poem and all but what do you mean the magnetic field is preparing to flip

what exactly does that mean

is this like a real thing or a thing you made up

because i don't have a back-up system

how will i get home

it is 4am and i am really worried about this

i could look it up on the internet but i'd rather have you explain it to me

please write back soon

your friend

emily


ps natasha

it's 4am and i'm reading your poetry on the internet

sometimes the world is wonderful

10,000 tonnes happiness and sadness revisted

10,000 tonnes happiness and sadness

you're not quite sure what it is that makes you so sad, only vaguely aware that it is here, visiting you in the shower. just some under the surface stuff that you reveal scrubbing yourself absentmindedly. you're not even sure if it's sadness, maybe apathy or lethargy instead. but then a heavier sigh - yes, there it is. sadness, which is so close to happiness that you can mistake one for the other. happiness, contentedness, a sort of apathy or lethargy in its own way. a settlement of sorts? happiness, sadness, what's the difference? you hate euphoria - it scares you, makes you upset. never one feeling without the other. happiness and sadness inside your coffee mug; filtered coffee which tastes good because you can't afford better, made in your kitchen, sipped without thought on the cool tiled floor while your hair dries. something is missing; it's milk and sugar, but you can live without those now.

hi so this is the new year

hi i'm oscar here to bring you a very special message about life which i know a lot about despite only being 7-9 months old.

firstly i don't even know why i have to say this because everyone should know this by now but open bars are a bad idea. the number one rule of life is "don't be too drunk" and open bars result in a direct contradiction of this rule. alcohol is this very silly thing that makes people think it is a good idea to text their crush or jump on the subway tracks or get naked in public.

secondly emily is lying in bed like a dead person because she violated the number one rule of life and she lost her earrings. maybe she should do the dishes or put on some pants but she just can't. now she is suffering the consequences of her actions which i do not approve of because if you come home and have to shut the door so the cat can't get in your room because you don't want him to see you then you are probably doing something wrong.

thirdly emily's number one problem in 2011 which i know a lot about despite not being alive for the entire year was anxiety about other people. i think this is stupid because emily is a smart caring person who always feeds me on time the best that she can but for some strange reason she is overcome with crippling doubt/panic/anxiety that other people think she is something other than what she is. although she doesn't really know who she is so she is also often confused and convinced that maybe she should be who other people think she is or that maybe she is already that person and or that she is a person entirely created by other people's perceptions of herself and what is free will anyway? she's not sure she has to think about it more.

from autostraddle.com

fourthly i been to a lot of places and seen a lot of things and i just have to say that i just don't understand people. i mean what are these portable telephone things that keep bringing drama into everyone's lives. here is a cat's advice: stop drinking (so much) and stop drunk texting. i like it better when people read books in bed instead of texting in bed because paper tastes better. i like to chew paper. also everyone thinks that looking a certain way is very important but it's not really. dogs are colour blind so they don't even know what you're wearing anyway.

in the end it doesn't matter who kissed who last night or that emily's eating processed cheese on a burnt bagel right now. she just wants what we all want: free delivery on new year's day. 2011 was a great year because i was born and 2012 will be even better because i will be there for all of it and there is so much opportunity for snacks. 2012 is the year of snacks.

thank you drive safe,

oscar

are there snacks out there

life is sweet in the belly of the beast

i've disappeared from the internet for the past few months. the truth is that i've just been living real life instead. i'm sorry because the internet has given me so much and not sorry because it feels good to live, and i think i'm actually happy even though i don't believe happiness is a real sustainable feeling.

my internet friends probably have forgotten i exist; my real life also probably hate me because i'm always at work. work counts as real life, right? 'cause i've basically given up my right arm and leg and firstborn child to my job. it might not even be a real job, i haven't decided yet.

rory culkin

sometimes i'm more okay with not knowing who i am than others. i know i've changed, i can feel myself changing and sometimes it's scary because i said i wouldn't become this person. but here i am and i'm just me and sometimes that's okay and sometimes i don't like it but i'm learning to live with it. i'm trying to be less stressed on the bus when i think i'm late.

i don't know what i want or who i want but i have some ideas i think. like maybe film school so i can tell my stories better. or something else but i don't know yet. i guess i'll just have to see, then, right?

for now...i'm off to toronto for 2 days then back on boxing day to work. i'm tired but excited about things and i don't really know what's going to happen in the new year so i'm just going to go with it. enjoy the holidays, my friends.

it was a beautiful shitty place

names changed for privacy.

i used to live in a shitty apartment in the plateau, surrounded by nicer looking triplexes. the landlord was a busy jewish man with a black suv who banged vigorously on our door for rent every month. i found my roommates on craigslist. i think originally it was supposed to be a one-bedroom apartment but was then turned into a three-bedroom to fit more people. greg's room used to be a closet i think. my room was bigger than his but also small. it could fit a single bed in one direction only. i painted my room green and it was kind of ugly and i left it there when i moved out. nobody ever used the living room. we didn't even have a table until greg bought a tiny tv tray which tilted slightly on the uneven floor. kevin's friend who used to live there before i did still had a pile of stuff in the living room. he never picked it up in all the 8 months that i lived there. it included a tv, a basketball, a book about mao zedong, and a bright blue bra which appeared out of nowhere one day.

one time, i listened to post-war by m. ward a lot and it was beautiful and things hurt but a good kind of hurt, you know? i remember lying in my blue sheets in my green room trying to figure out what 'home' meant.

cactus

this chicken used to be frozen until i fried it in a pan. chicken for lunch. inside a tortilla wrap with lettuce.

i used to be a human but now i am just a thing the cat uses to get somewhere else.

it used to be sunny but now it is rainy.

it used to be rainy but now it is sunny.

what the fuck?

this page used to be blank until i wrote these words.

my mind is blank.

how to write a country song

how to write a country song

how to eat raw beef

how to get pregnant without a man

how to be a doormat

how to tie your shoe

how to get new bone structure

how to listen to frank sinatra

how to shop at zellers

how to shop at american eagle

how to ride the bus one-handed

how to win friends and make enemies

how to get what you don't want

how to make me a sandwich

how to the botanical garden

how to be chinese

how to be ironic

how to look like a hobo

how to fall asleep standing up

how to run in heels

how to be better at life

how to function in a paradox

how to function in a paradise

how to write an autobiography

how to make an enchilada

how to build a shelf

how to how to

This Is Why It Is So Hard To Find A Place To Live

1.

Hi, I have a 3 and a half which I want to share with 2 persons, (unless somebody want to pay me heavy rent for a single room), its on [redacted], exactly in between Concordia and Atwater, Rent would be near about $300 including everything, I guess internet also.Place is awesome, rooms are too big with a big kitchen and store. And no need to worry about shopping stores, its Downtown!

I can share it with one person also, like girls need separate room (if you can share with another girl, then again less rent) but if alone then rent would increase, it would be near about $575

2.

Looking for open minded female to share beautiful home over looking the ocean in Nova Scotia. I recently moved back to my home town in Cape Breton, a small village in the Highlands, remote and beautiful. I plan to spend a winter getting back to nature, working on my land and trying to live more organically. I am looking for someone interested in a winter retreat. I am not looking for help with bills, more companionship, someone that would enjoy hiking, outdoor activities, cooking and cosy nights in front of the fireplace. Free of cost with no long term commitments. great opportunity for a painter, writer or yoga trainer. For more details send an email. Thanks

3.

just moved into my new home on 10 acres looking for a roommate must be a women

i am 15 mins to the 401 and 20 to 417 looking for someone to clean the place for free rent

i am tall 6.2 dark hair blue eyes in good shape realy easy going

4.

##################################

room for rent for 225$ per month in Montreal

5.

Beautifull rooms available to rent in Puerto Vallarta , located int the romantic zone of old Valarta .Located at a 5 minutes walk from the beach and conveniences. Each of our rooms have their particular style and are equipped with anti-acarina bed covers and pillow cases, as well as bathrobes . Our large rooms have a fridge and a tv with cable. You also get access to the kitchen (fully equipped), high speed internet (wifi), calls to Canada and USA, and the rest of the Casa.For a small extra fee you can use the washer and dryer.Our prices include continental breakfast and we also offer guide services to discover the area and provide towels for the beach as well beach chairs and umbrellas and coolers.

6.

$ 300 ALL INCLUDED (electricity, telecommunications)
THE HEART OF THE PLATEAU
All furnished or unfurnished
INTERNET, PHONE, CABLE TV
BIG ROOMS
QUIET EXCEPT WHEN WE DO A PRIVATE SKINS PARTY (MAX 60 guests including us)
MAX 10 roomates 75% girls, 25% boys
this really calm but we are people who like the nightlife. we life close to the clubs, we are not allowed to invite people outside of room after midnight
ALL INCLUSIVE PRICE EVEN THE COMMON POT: BETWEEN $ 180, $ 330 and $ 530

7.

Hiii ,

I found a great 3 1/2 very close to school. I like to share it with a girl. If you like let me know. One cane take a bedroom and another can take a living room.
Thanks. The contract is for one year.

8.

1 1/2 in seint-kevin (all include, internet, elecricity, hot water, telephone).for 10 month for share by a gilr.near metro station and montreal university(just 15 minutes by walk).
If you interested please send me an e-mail
I am guy and study in Ude M.

9.

McGill MBA, single, living in an apartment located in the beautiful Outremont area. I am offering my guest room to a woman in her twenties in exchange for regular intimate moments, if the chemistry is there of course... Photos available.

10.

Available large room (non furnished) 9.5x14.5 in a ground floor 6 1/2, wood floors, w/d, wi-fi, no phone no cable. Looking for mature person that needs pied à terre with access. I am a 51 man non smoker with no pets, staight in my orentation not in my life style. Leave a phone number to be reached no email correspondance.

"straight in my orientation, not in my life style"

"straight in my orientation, not in my life style"

"straight in my orientation, not in my life style"

all walls are great if they don't fall

sometimes i still think about the emptiness in my stomach, leaving my stomach in the air and my breath hovering around my ears, sucking in the world through my mouth. it passes right through me.

bungee jumping is like this:
a heaviness around your ankles
falling into absolute nothingness
and by contrast falling into everything.

the stars above the great wall of china are like this:
explosions in the sky
falling into absolute nothingness
and by contrast falling into everything.

the great wall of china at night; looming towers above us and spotlights on the mountain.
i am on a ledge and i can see everything and i can see nobody until we are all under a blanket shivering with the stars.

i am happy.

there are things i want, people i miss, an emptiness in my heart
but also a duty, also a feeling of fullness
all so full in my heart.

i will stand on this ledge and see the world displayed on the great wall of china.
the great wall of china, tumbling into nothingness, falling into everything.

Identity Crisis #3: Am I White?

This is a better written off shoot of one of my other identity crises. Despite being Chinese/having an "Eastern" background sometimes I still feel like I'm an Orientalist/appropriating other cultures.

++

When I look in the mirror I don't see a Chinese person. I don't see a Jewish person or a lesbian. I don't see a boy or a girl. I don't know what I see. I think I see someone who is just scared of being anything.

I was born in Canada to immigrant parents but to immigrant parents who themselves had been raised in Canada. My dad's family moved to Toronto when he was around 10 and my mother's family moved to Montreal when she was around 5. They were educated in Canada and have not lived outside of Canada in over 20 years or maybe ever (since they moved here)?

I was raised in the suburbs in a fairly white neighbourhood in a middle-class family. There was enough money for me to play sports and have toys and have food everyday and also pay medical bills because my mother was ill (though I didn't think of these things when I was a kid). I went to high school and there were, like, 3 black kids. I think there was one other Chinese kid in my grade. The "biggest" minority were the Jewish kids, about 5 or 6 in the sports program my dad had enough money to pay for. Everyone else was white. This is not to say "I'M SO OPPRESSED" this is actually to say I grew up in an extremely white setting -- so much so that I accidentally let slip "other white people" in reference to myself to Laura in February and she asked me if I considered myself white. And I've thought a lot about it since then.

This is the opposite of "I'm oppressed". When I fill out job applications and they ask me if I'm part of a minority group and list a bunch of options, I feel like I'm exploiting something when I mark off "Chinese" (I don't, however, feel bad about marking off "woman"). Being Chinese has, luckily, never limited my options, at least not that I know of. I don't think I've ever not gotten a job for being Chinese, though once I didn't get a job because I don't speak Cantonese.

I've lived my life in white neighbourhoods, gone to school with white kids, played sports with white kids, had as much money as the average white person, have been taught mostly the same values as non-religious white kids. If you went into my house without knowing who it belonged to, you would probably never guess "Chinese". You might guess "Jewish" if you search really hard and find our menorah, but then you would probably be confused by my step-mom's Christmas decorations. The Chinese food we usually eat is take-out. Just like other white people and Jews on New Year's eve (JKKK).

I have had the opportunities that white, middle-class people my age have had. If asked who I identify most with, between a Chinese person from China and a white person from North America, I would choose a white person from North America. But in some situations among non-asians I can't help but feel extremely Chinese. I've gotten weird questions like "Do you have statues of Buddha in your home?", or people will say something about China and might add in a "no offense" in there (what even?) or ask me if I know the answer (I don't). Someone once told my friend that she thought I was "pretty for an Asian". It used to bother me that people assumed I knew things about China because in my mind I was so clearly not Chinese that I just couldn't understand why people would think I would know. I understand better now (but that doesn't make it right). When the subject of China comes up I suddenly feel extremely conscious of looking like a Chinese person.

But I feel like an impostor in a half-Chinese person's body. I know very little about China. Before I took a class on China last semester pretty much all I knew about Chinese culture was that General Tao chicken is not an authentic Chinese dish. I didn't even know which city my family was from or which dialect of Chinese they spoke.

When I look in the mirror I don't see a Chinese person. I definitely don't look Jewish. I don't even consider myself a real Jew, in fact, my half-assed attempts to celebrate major holidays are probably an insult to real religious people. I consider myself more "queer" than "gay" or "bisexual" because I'm still trying to figure myself out, but queer people can look like anyone.

I don't see a white person either though. I know I'm not white, I just have white privileges, for the most part, right now. What does that make me? (Answer: confused).

Nobody Cared About The Giant Goldfish In My Bathtub

Last night I had a dream that a giant goldfish came out of the drain while I was in the shower in a giant 4-story home where I lived on the 2nd floor with a couple with a baby, but nobody cared about the giant goldfish because somebody related to me had just given birth to a baby and everybody (and by everybody I mean my cousin and this girl I used to work with?) was all obsessed with the baby. I was in my towel like, "you guys, a GOLDFISH. In the BATH." And they were like "BABIES BABIES BABIES BABIES".

image via autostraddle's prop 8 recap, a thing totally unrelated to my dream

What does this mean in my life. Please advise.

Then I had to stop crying and eat dinner.

Tuesday, October 27, 2009

wore sweatpants today. no longer care if i run into [redacted].

Monday, November 1, 2009

Today I bought cigarettes so I could stand outside on Maisonneuve and potentially see [redacted]. Except that I bought bitchsticks and she wasn't there.

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

Goal of the day: don't cry. Accomplished. Got the job at American Eagle. Really, really, really tired. 2 exams left.

Saturday, November 14 2009

Went bar hopping on St. Laurent. Decided to text [redacted*]. She never answered. Met up with [redacted] at Biftek. [redacted*] was there. She ignored me. I got drunk.

++

Wednesday, October 27 2010

She said she really wants to hug me in the winter. Then we talked about other things which were nice, like sweaters and heat.

Monday, November 1 2010

tried to get some work done on my break but didn't accomplish much. Went grocery shopping at night.

Wednesday, November 10 2010

worked 6-9:30. [redacted] got mad at me for standing around and made me feel bad. But I had just zoned out and there was nobody in the store.

Sunday, November 14 2010

She asked if it was something she said but it wasn't. I didn't know what it was. I went in my bed and cried and had a breakdown but I don't know why. I just felt lonely. Then I had to stop crying and eat dinner. Also [redacted] said she bought me something for my birthday. Everyone is so nice to me and I don't know why.

that secret that we know, that we don't know how to tell

can i tell you a secret.

'teenage dream' by katy perry plays at work and more than once it has almost made me cry. now i am listening to it on repeat but i don't know why.

last year -- december 2009 -- i was wandering up and down a street i knew too well. i was always looking for this one person without trying to make it look like i was looking for her; i was smoking cigarettes outside leaning on trees; i was stumbling down mountains and listening to bon iver and crying and desperate all the time. my money was gone and i was drunk as hell.

sometimes my secret is this: the ground is wet with snow but it is not snowing. the air is damp like it was just raining and the glow of lights reflect on the pavement. car lights. street lamps. i want to chain smoke. i am surrounded by people and all at once i am happy and sad and alone and hopeful. the night is just beginning and there are still places we haven't been.

sometimes my secret is this: i do not know the difference between being in love and wanting a mother. i am sorry. i do not know the difference.

one year ago -- december 2009 -- i was standing in the fitting room at my job. a song was making me cry. in my mind the street i seemed to always be standing on was upside down; my feet were on the sky. that's the way i walked around.

sometimes i have no secrets and it makes me feel bare but no one asks. a secret is hidden; if there is nothing to hide but no one is looking then what is there. am i secret if i don't exist. whose secret am i. what is the point of a secret if not to reveal it one day.

lately my secret has been that grey's anatomy makes me cry. i just let myself sink into this hand crafted world where people live and die with the stroke of a pen. and when parents hear that their children are dead and they break down in each other's arms, i break down too. i let myself cry over this tv show because it's easier than crying over real life.

tell me a secret if you so desire.

++

I am in love
with the way I see the world.
But I am all alone there.
- Matthew Rohrer "Hone Quarry"

i don't feel this way, but it's a beautiful line.

Identity Crisis

I've never seen myself as particularly "Western" before, but that's because I live in The West. I identify as a Canadian partially as a reaction to the things surrounding me that are Not Canadian, like the United States. I notice my "Chineseness" because of all the Non-Chinese people around me. And I identify as gay, or queer, because of the "divide" between queers and straights. If there was no such thing as heterosexuality I wouldn't need to identify as queer at all. I would just be. Even though I'm Chinese, I'm also mostly Canadian, or Western, or North American. I wouldn't fit in in China at all!

That's sort of how I feel about living in the West. Prior to this semester I had never taken any courses that taught me anything about places further east than Europe. Africa was just this one chunk of land that was full of starving black people and South Africa had some white people. "South Africa" could basically have referred to the lower half of Africa.

But now I'm learning things about The East and it makes me feel really self-conscious of my North American Status. I've never felt that before because I don't feel like I'm an embodiment of "capitalism", but I guess I probably am. It's really hard to talk about things that are not Euro-centric without bringing in my own presuppositions and attitudes and I feel like I'm interfering in something that isn't mine. I feel like Stuff White People Like: Being an Expert on YOUR culture. Like, look at me, some North American with enough money to go to university and listen to another North American talk about Asia.

I think I feel weird about this because I've never been a "majority" before. I can't look at myself the same way anymore. I can't ask the same questions anymore. I don't wish that I was Eastern. I wish that being labeled as "something" wasn't so important. I wish that I didn't have to feel "American" and that democracy is the best and everyone should have democracy. I feel weird about having "power" but also I don't feel like I have power. I don't know. This probably stopped making sense a long time ago. I'm having an identity crisis, I'll get back to you on my feelings later.

The Easy Forgetting

"You never could have imagined

back then with the waves crashing

what the body could erase."

- Stephen Dunn "The Vanishings"

I stumbled out of a bar to a street I know too well. My shoes fell in dirt, a block of concrete removed to make room for a tree. I leaned against the tree, my head falling back in laughter. I'm so inebriated that I cannot see three feet in front of me. I want a cigarette to warm the tips of my fingers and in my circle of friends we create clouds that roll up to the sky and disappear. I hope she kisses me tonight.

We hang on to each other for support, because it's so funny I can't stand. I could swear we are moving in slow motion. Each laugh is like a howl, our heads thrown back calling to the moon. The ground doesn't hurt, nor do scrapes on my knee, ripped jeans. Stephen Dunn said too much doesn't hurt anymore.

She kisses me on the cheek, like I once saw her do in a picture with someone else. My stomach aches.

Our foreheads are pressed together. My hair sticks to my forehead. My mouth... The air is warmer between us. I have wanted this for so long.

I can see the freckles on her nose. I can see the flecks of green in her eyes. I can see each individual eyelash, closely stuck together, and the delicate skin on her eyelid when she blinks in slow motion. I smile into her mouth.

I can feel her sigh escape into the night.

Each breath is hot and I can see our breath hovering in the cold air. I kiss the edges of her smile and behind us the chaos of kids laughing and falling becomes haze and muffled noise. For one night I am in love and it ends too soon. She escapes into the night.

One day it will vanish, he said, how you felt when you were overwhelmed by her. Hurt, he said, how could you have forgotten? hurts.

Open Letter to Myself

You got what you wanted. You stumbled home drunk and it was cold. Why is that a thing that you wanted. You were alone. You were walking with a ghost who's not coming back. You lay on the bed and your head spun and your ears rang and your heart burst but mostly you did not feel because you had drank too much. And it reminded you of other nights in another city where things were softer. And you said to yourself why did you do that. And you said to yourself, to make it hurt. Because you're a masochist. Because you're crazy. Because there's something wrong with you. Your mind is on fire.

Put it out, put it out. Don't ever put out the fire in your heart.

You got what you wanted. You wandered towards the moon. You wandered towards the cross on top of the mountain which never got any closer. You never got closer to anything. You never figured yourself out. Instead you trapped yourself inside a box and now you're stuck. And you wake up and you don't know where you are.

You're drunk all the time. You're not even a person sometimes. You're a shadow. You're the moon which never gets closer to anyone. You just run away all the goddamn time. Half of your christmas lights don't light up and you don't know how to fix that. And what about your inability to glue even the largest of broken pieces back together.

Why did you make the choices that you made. You got everything you wanted and you're still let down. Why do you live here. And what if you could have someone here right now beside you. Instead of writing this you could be talking to someone real instead of talking to yourself. Sometime there'll be someone here beside you and this room will be too small and you'll bump into each other way too often.

But your loneliness will go out like a candle in the close quarters.

[And would it have been worth it, after all,

Would it have been worth while,

After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,

After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor --

And this, and so much more? -- ]

[Places to kiss:

+ On Rachel, in the middle of the street, between Clark and St. Urbain, facing the mountain.

+ Against the Sun Youth building.]

There Was No Snake Oil Cure For Unlucky In Love

I was obviously drunk when I told you I loved you. You were wearing a white shirt, I thought the fabric smelled good. I leaned in towards your ear because the outside noise was loud, and I said "I like your shirt". I kissed you sloppily on the cheek. You blushed, were silent, but received my kiss with grace. Encouraged, I kissed you on the cheek, more carefully, more lightly this time. I said, "I meant to say 'I love you'".

You gripped my hand tightly and pulled me out of my seat. I stumbled and blushed, secretly pleased, my palm pulsing "yes yes yes". We stepped out into the rain and ran the sidewalks like it was summer. The wind hugged us closer. You invited me to my home. We exchanged our wet clothes for drier skin. When I closed my eyes the world spun counter-clockwise.

We staved off loneliness all night. The back of my head beat pulsating rhythms pound pound and a little bit suffocating. On your collarbone I could smell your white shirt. Or perhaps on your white shirt I could smell your collarbone. I hugged you close like the wind, I felt you move through my body.

In the morning your heart was a smaller size. You said, "my feet still hurt from my new shoes."

I said, "I will carry you.

"I know how the world is cold sometimes".