zephineyd

wise wednesdays 
today was such a good day even though i cried a little and went mental during rehearsals 
i am a little less afraid now
it's okay to do that & it's okay to do that, they assure me 
'be gracious to take the care people offer you'

talking to the people i love best only seem to expose the failure of communication, the failure of understanding
we can never get the words right
so much that it can only take the form of a series of circular wanderings making towards a circumference which it can never reach

impenetrable darkness and the brilliance of the occasional flashes 
i want to know all the crevices so that if we speak, we can speak with our bodies and not with words
moons of eyes, dipper of a clavicle, burn of skin, the finger that hesitates to touch 

(what a highly strung day of fucking annoying inadequacy on your part and my part both 
'i give up on humanity', is basically the essence of what i'm saying)

You will never be lovelier than you are now. We will never be here again.

even though i know that words are just there to fill a lack, and we are not a language, an alphabet of limbs, and all words do is tangle and veil and hum a silhouette of the feeling we have...sometimes i get so upset and exasperated over people and their lack of truth because why is it so hard to be real people with real feelings? - and then tired with all the navigation and maneuvering we need to do through the swarm of empty sounds saying nothing -

but then i realize i can put aside all these skepticism, and look into your eyes and for that moment, or that moment more, dissolve all insecurities and agitated mistrust in language, and give up completely - yes yes yes i know

pools of mirror for eyes infinite depth or empty shallowness receiver processor reflector 
i don't know what you are or what you can be 
and a thousand millions of people will go pass me like this and my limited care will exhaust itself to encompass all that slip by; i don't think i can stand the thought of just brushing shoulders with people and their coiled up inner complexities

i don't know anything nor can i express myself adequately in any way
negative capability 
to be able to live in approximations
yes, i think that would do for now. 

i got caught in the rain and stood waiting for the rain to lighten for half an hour before deciding to run in it 
(kindness of strangers) 
had a warm bath, made myself bread and honey for dinner and drank three cups of chocolate milk
i feel happy, sated and a bit too comfortable to do my lit essay 

i'm not a leo ascendant 
this has huge implications on what to make of my life before

sleep for half an hour to get rid of the nerves, wake up and write a beautiful lit essay!!!!!!!
unintended paradoxes, pure ecstatic
'soules where nothing dwells but love'

don't really want to sleep tonight, need to make up for all the previous lethargic weeks and sleepy weepy nights. i want to stay up so i can experience that numbing rocking of the 3am when you feel everything fall into a quiet, and the moment when if you can keep your head and lids up for a little bit, everything will become brighter.

religiously:
reading ted hughes' birthday letters before and after sleep 
listening to peter and the wolf
watching reruns of friends at 7pm

today, peter pan boys pretended they were transformers in the canteen and went around, hands on each others shoulders, blasting random girls with their flame thrower hands and bullet mouths. don't ever ever want grow up please!!!!!!

ayery gold and lightness

sister asks out of the blue do you think i'm a puzzle piece? i hesitate and say well yes, one of many, we all fit nicely into the world. and in my head, i'm thinking gosh little sister you are eleven, you are only a baby. or do you think i'm a bead on a string? what's that mean, baby? it's there and she points to the wall. i don't see it, i tell her. it was there, now it's gone and i remember the trees, and the tiles in my bathroom i stare at and when i stare they morph into faces of gods. it must be that that she is seeing. there, it's back. i don't see it, sissy. and she points at a smudge on the wall, the smudge is so slight and feathery it represents nothing, but she insists. and i torture myself once more by dilating every experience into malaise i can't get into the head of an eleven year old child, i cannot see through your eyes

mirror images back at me so i can see the way you feel it too 

because she is a child i can speak to her openly, thinking that nothing really registers with such weight anyway. chloe, why don't you write?, i ask. i try to! but then there's too much to write. but you have to write it or else nobody knows what you're thinking about, and then one day it'll just explode, tapping her head. it is thinly covered with hair. i write it in my mind and she draws lines in the air and then i forget to write it down. oh sister, constricted by language. my problem, the consciousness of writing, but yours, limited by ability. the words, they do not even appear. yours is a fumbling not for exactitude but meaning first and foremost. i want to give you words. i want to give you words that do not know how to help me. i want to give you words. 

we take a walk and there are dark alleys on purvis street that i like to walk into and i ask her if she wants to follow me in. there is fear in her eyes, and she pulls me away. i'm scared of the world. oh my goodness baby girl i love you. that was the first thing i said. why, where wouldn't be scary? in your head? no! that's even scarier. oh, love, then where? in the second dimension. where's that? in the second dimension. we have to be here, my love, we have to learn to be here. like outer space. space and time, space and time i think, that's all around, everything is in relation to space and time. they are ruthless and impartial, i don't know if i trust them. a while later i tell her that everybody's scared of everybody they just act as if they're not scared.

i think of ducks and snakes and how every animal's consciousness is that of fear. 

my sister censures her thoughts more so than i do but she is cheerful and light because she wants to love everybody and wants everybody to be peaceful and light with her. i brew storms and cloudy days at home. child, innocent people, they know the most. Benjy knows he is always right, he can smell caddy's thoughts. 

i will read you the mouse and his child to sleep - 
- what am i, papa?
- we'll have to wait and see
and kiss you goodnight, star eyes.