memoirs;

memoirs @ 2002-06-25T14:27:00

2002-06-25T18:27:50Z

xanax and oh wouldn't i love to sleep the rest of the day but i'm desperately downing a pepsi 1 + some so i can go chase little children.

but i feel better and mm diet pepsi has become so tasty, caffeine minus the calories, oh praise be.

memoirs @ 2002-06-22T23:28:00

2002-06-23T04:29:12Z

this silence is so precious. i live for late summer nights when the house is sleeping and all i hear is the shifting foundation and the clattering of my incessant typing. and i am at peace.

memoirs @ 2002-06-21T18:35:00

2002-06-21T22:35:22Z

my breasts aren't high enough, not shaped well enough. i'm half-concerned with this and the way they look with my soft belly. too soft. but i have no interest in putting clothes on, or writing poetry, though i do that, or did that--and some day. well.

memoirs @ 2002-06-14T08:13:00

2002-06-14T12:13:37Z

summer thunderstorms have become too situated, too plentiful, and the earth has not only cooled but verily chilled. i am wearing sweaters and cradling myself to keep warm. when i look up or down all i see are mud puddles. i want to dig in them until i break past the rain clouds.

i am tired. i sigh too much, and too exasperatedly.

memoirs @ 2002-06-08T19:15:00

2002-06-08T23:15:38Z

I just wanna drain my little pink heart of all its malice

memoirs @ 2002-06-03T18:49:00

2002-06-03T22:49:37Z

armed with chamomile tea and late afternoon slants, shadows, and the soft sound of water falling into water, coming from the plastic filter from the plastic pond that continues to be the most soothing sound in a place of too much chaos. and sometimes in the humid 3 a.m. haze i dream i walk out of my house and atlantic city is burning and i wake up choking because the soot has blown over the marsh and created a cloud of dust and fumes on my street. and sometimes i dream that i've died, that i am dying, slowly, and i wake up soaked and telling myself i think too much about death.

and then i'm armed with tea and the gentle hum of water and i'm ready to write an english paper, if i don't fall asleep or get distracted by the birds on the clothes line.

memoirs @ 2002-05-15T19:02:00

2002-05-15T23:02:49Z

too tired, sore. heavy womb. i think of far away radio stations, tapping into lives not-my-own. i would be a stranger for a day. it's a bitter patience. yes.

memoirs @ 2002-05-15T08:41:00

2002-05-15T12:41:27Z

last night i was stiff with fear. an honest, hide-under-the-blankets, lock-the-doors fear. i am so frightened of him, when i hear the house phone ring after 10 pm i'm sure he's calling for money, i'm sure he'll break in when we don't answer, i'm sure his dealers will be right behind him, guns and pills and pills and pills. it's so irrational (says my mother), except it's not. they are after him, and i don't want him to call us anymore. my grandmother would laugh at these fears, too, but when it comes to the drugs he's not harmless anymore, and he's dealing with things that are dangerous.

i'm paranoid. but i've seen what he looks like when he needs it, and i've heard the stories of being tied up in the woods, barbituates, whiskey, cocaine and all.

memoirs @ 2002-04-29T17:07:00

2002-04-29T21:07:50Z

one mess piled on top of another.

memoirs @ 2002-04-27T17:38:00

2002-04-27T21:39:09Z

if i could leave right now i would. i'd drive until i'd turn around and come back. simple enough.

i'm restless, but timid and restrictive. i give myself boundaries.

memoirs @ 2002-04-26T14:03:00

2002-04-26T18:04:18Z

reason # 362 that i still go from day to day:

loud laughter, obnoxious, sincere, and to the point of tears after an incredibly long week.

the blessings

memoirs @ 2002-04-19T21:47:00

2002-04-20T01:47:49Z

i deal with fragments. things i hope i will one day be able to connect. poetry in shoeboxes wait for revision. i am tender where there is too much flesh or too little. i am reluctant to try to work my words into something valuable. and perhaps this hesitation is because if i try, i may fail, and i have fallen short of my own expectations far too many times this year.

we are so dangerous to ourselves. we hold our own jackknife words blade-up towards the heart.

memoirs @ 2002-04-15T17:10:00

2002-04-15T21:11:06Z

warm weather is affirming. each year i forget how dead i feel by the end of winter. and then spring comes, with the smells and shadows that i have so missed.

memoirs @ 2002-04-14T18:23:00

2002-04-14T22:24:09Z

"The only way you can write the truth is to assume that what you set down will never be read. Not by any other person, and not even by yourself at some later date. Otherwise you begin excusing yourself. You must see the writing as emerging like a long scroll of ink from the index finger of your right hand; you must see your left hand erasing it."

- Margaret Atwood

memoirs @ 2002-04-13T23:07:00

2002-04-14T03:08:31Z

i feel pretty. tired & dishevelled and all. pretty. like i could float, maybe. how strange.

memoirs @ 2002-04-13T11:35:00

2002-04-13T15:35:43Z

my feminism is not the kinderwhore kind. i never understood the 'slut', 'bitch', 'whore', 'glitter whatever' movement. maybe i'm missing something key, but i don't see the value.

memoirs @ 2002-04-09T20:33:00

2002-04-10T00:33:59Z

i care less. it's unfortunate, really. but i don't have the energy.

memoirs @ 2002-04-06T15:26:00

2002-04-06T20:27:20Z

i hope the snake was a woman, too.

memoirs @ 2002-04-06T11:21:00

2002-04-06T16:22:30Z

writers block--ithurts--iamtrying.

memoirs @ 2002-04-04T22:42:00

2002-04-05T03:43:18Z

i try to hide how disappointed i am, but i have never been good at denial. it catches up with me. (truth is just like time, it catches up and it just keeps going...) i wish i weren't so ashamed of my shortcomings. i wish i weren't so embarassed about the things i can no longer follow. i wish i didn't have to go back to school monday and look people in the eye. i feel terrible, why couldn't i have been better? i want these things to disappear from my memory, from me.

i'm sitting here trying to find direction for what i want to say. i am immeasurably sad. i am also scared. i am desperate and whatever it is i'm feeling it's in my bones and making me sore. i know i am not stuck but it feels that way nevertheless.

i will sit here and smile. smile, laugh, say "it's okay" and "i'll get by", and "i expected this" but i am lying. i didn't expect this much drama. i didn't expect all of these mistakes. i don't want pity, i don't want any of this recognized at all. it makes me more embarassed, it makes me feel more inferior.

i just want to feel okay. i want to genuinely accept myself and my situation, and i don't know if i can do that with the direction i'm heading in. i'm looking to make a left turn next spring but you know i don't trust that either because i have really disappointed myself..

memoirs @ 2002-04-04T22:26:00

2002-04-05T03:26:52Z

stef.

memoirs @ 2002-04-01T17:05:00

2002-04-01T22:06:27Z

i like my shoulders. one of the few things i am comfortable with.

memoirs @ 2002-03-31T21:52:00

2002-04-01T02:52:49Z

post-rainstorm sunlight. estell manor, nj. my former town, my childhood. the cramped house-turned-post office. it is quiet here, and seems empty, but it is overflowing with rich memories that surface when i kick the dirt. sometimes i long for the simplicity i knew here, sometimes i long for the 5 acres of land that was ours to run on. ours to stumble through, to bleed on, to rest on, to muddy. to worship, to pray to, unknowingly. if you had told me God was the dirt on my skinned knees, i would never have understood.

God. oh god.

memoirs @ 2002-03-31T21:35:00

2002-04-01T02:36:11Z

i feel unimportant. inconsequential. but i bite my tongue.

memoirs @ 2002-03-29T16:34:00

2002-03-29T21:34:34Z