I get in spots where it’s so hard to move. It’s so hard to want to and so hard to do. I get into spots. I want that job, or really any of these semi decent jobs. I want naltrexone HCI / bupropion HCl. I want the brave streak to fix my body. I want the slick steel strength i feel in a scene to live inside me always. Party in a party. Keep my build me take me. I love you.


The heart

My heart is an old oak chest

(your heart is a muscle the size of your first)

My heart is a mid-swoop falcon

(your heart is a muscle the size of your fist)

Well then maybe, if I go slow and careful, i can put it inside you


Maybe i am a house filled with mysterious rooms. Maybe I’m the answer to my hopes renewed. Maybe I’m the one the ghosts of the 1977 blackout will talk through. Time is thin line important and my demons shouldn’t make themselves excuses. No. The vase didn’t break itself. I shouldn’t let my demons be excuses. I shouldn’t let myself excuse. Read a boring book. Go to sleep. Don’t have anything but new fresh dreams


Is it really too much to ask for me to find us both perfect work from home jobs? A life where they do tech support, or data entry, or run a help chat for a website or something, and i teach online classes, or write corporate briefings and newsletters, or write fucking romance novels, or something. I don’t want to be a goddamn administrative Assistant and work 40 hours per week in a little office somewhere for people i don’t care about. I don’t want to spend 40 hours a week anywhere but here, truthfully, but i might have to. I’m applying. I’m quitting ghost tours and i need to get something lined up fast as hell, even if i fucking hate it. Even if my soul shrivels up into a raisin. Or i could go for a second master’s, and volunteer at libraries to get the experience so someone will actually fucking hire me when I’m done. Or i could go for an education doctorate, e-learning concentration, and volunteer at the adult learning center so i can get the experience and actually get fucking hired when I’m done. (which i totally should have done while i was getting my master’s, and i dunno why i didn’t fucking think about it until toooo late hot plate) and work part time doing something else while i do one of those paths. Maybe at the animal shelter, or idk… Basically anything part time that isn’t giving tours. Idk. I have a lot of thoughts and i don’t know what to do with them. I have a lot of thoughts and i need to try to sleep for now, so i can have a productive day tomorrow, so i can move myself forward. Peace.


Nightmares and nap-mares all in and over me. Things that break my heart, and myself just screaming until my voice gives out. It carries into the waking day. How can i ever feel… Like I’m enough? How can i make myself feel like I’m whole and complete and enough? Smoke, and the sparkling crackle of not quite dry things burning. Watching rows and rows of stubborn weeds bow and shrink before the flame. Shrink into nothing but ash. Good. Die. Victory in a battle I’ve fought for months. I need real work. I need real money. I don’t t want to lead tours anymore. Time to sleep. Dreams, please, be gentle with me.


It’s Christmas. A lot of stuff has been happening… Like… A lot. I got my Master’s degree. Officially. We *might* be getting a fucking house, like for real. *Knock on wood* and my brother and i finished our five song EP. We’re going to be giving it to our parents in the morning, as a gift. For this reason, I’m more nervous and excited about Christmas morning than i have been since i was a literal child. I’m definitely nervous, but also, so excited. I just hope it goes well. I hope all of this goes well. *Knock on wood* I’m gonna try and sleep now i guess, even though that seems impossible. We’ll see. Peace.


It feels good to be working on music stuff again. A month to get it done, i need to get these lyrics finished. 3 songs written and two to go, all of them flowers. Oh, also I’ll be done with grad school by then. I have the third section of my dissertation due Friday. Everything is crazy. Baby showers are affairs of primal femininity. Sacred in a way that i didn’t understand as a kid. I’m daunted by the fact that i need to immediately get a well paying job. Like… Immediately after i graduate. Daunted and haunted by the spectre of my own body. Pretty fucking wild to try and get a house in a world where i don’t even really know what kind of income I’m gonna be able to produce. That’s some type of pressure. Feels like a significant gamble. My knowledge a gambit i can’t judge the value of. Flowers and floundering figments and love.