10.12.02 - 7:45

i spend a number of hours in this chair. i've draped it with three different kinds of cloth. i've wrapped it in blankets and quilts. i've tried so hard. you thought it was going to be so easy. you bought a convertible and a house with a pool and a yard. you pulled weeds and bought a hot tub. you cleaned the pool and threw parties. you bought a piano and i was jealous and i'm still more jealous about the piano than i was about any of the other things. the other things are small and they don't have beating hearts.

the projects here are the colors of sand. all the colors of sand. brown, tan, ecru. bone. gray, rust, cream. they stand in a straight line, their stucco faces completely blank. the angles repeat themselves over and over again. everyone is hiding inside them.

she said, you are a little mystery to me. every time you come around. she said, i can see you smile in the dark. she liked to let go and drift into something like sleep, something like death, something like hypnosis. she liked to let go.

are we supposed to be on some sort of schedule? was there something we were supposed to do today? are we behind? do you think we can catch up? do we want to catch up? how do you catch up? why do you want to catch up? catch up to whom? why are you always running? why are you always behind?

she sings it so prettily that you want to disregard the way it should have been. that's the sort of power that we're all looking for. the way to make something old new. the way to make it so new that we forget it was ever old. we want to make names for ourselves. we never want to grow old. and when it comes to the end, we want to go up in smoke, a flash of light, an exploding star. we want to be that supernova.

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