Wednesday, August 7, 2013

Yesterday looked like a beautiful day weather-wise. I could only give it a barely-wave from the other side of the glass--stuck in a migraine for the duration of it. I dragged myself around from bedroom to bathroom to kitchen and back again. And drag is, in fact, the right word for my movements.

I knew it was coming I guess. That strange panicked/helpless feeling I get at work before I even get home...I had that on Monday. I get frantic thinking about the solitude I face when I will arrive at my apartment door...and then boom the feeling goes away and in its place a migraine. As if something in me knows that something is coming. Sometimes animals go wild before natural disasters...maybe this is similar.

No matter. It's over now.

I feel like my insides are turning and turning upon themselves--the ultimate ice cream maker filled with guts and thoughts and love. I've been pressed up against my writing for a few days now, pressed up close and breathing heavily on each stanza. I want this. I want this next collection to represent what cannot be said but what sits in me like a fat irritable orb. I am still working hard to figure it out. It isn't about being nice or clean but honesty. If there is venom then I show the poison and if there is weakness then I reveal the tremble. I have spent hours trying to describe the emptiness within me where my mother should be. I have spent days trying to write out my hummingbirds and tree trunks and mistakes and whole notes. I keep stretching to explain it. I sweat on this til I start to rust.

Keep the tough work coming though. I love every bulletbloated minute of it.

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