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November 14, 2005

Birthday Assessment

Some people make new year's resolutions. I don't. But this year anyway, some things have been stewing... and I have some birthday resolutions... another celebration, another year, another milestone has come and gone... several conversations today... several thoughts this ... (?) ... month? ... or so... like I said... stewing... tributaries converging...

I definitely want to finish this year of school... beyond that we'll see. I need to stop wasting time and make things happen. I need to be near Solange. I need to be near HeiLau. Maybe there are others, but it's not obvious to me every day, not obvious to me in my late-night, birthday-tipsy fervor. I'm pretty sure we'll all be heading back to San Francisco just as soon as we can manage it. Anybody feel free to join. It's heaven, or as close as I've seen.

I'm shaking, and it's hard to tell whether it's from the crystalline, Minneapolis cold singing to my room—or just my lack of eloquence for the ecstasy I have to share here... high pressure inside—no outlet.

I have to find them—those who give a shit—those who need it like I do. I don't yet know where to look.

under grey
nothing showing

glimpsing the past
though I've tried
through you
my sporadic mast
it turns
(the tide)

she said
the sea wall bars
and it's shed
the mask head
the crow's crown
flown down from where it read,

the lies all hidden
born to her


are you even fucking listening?

behind all this I know I know it's horrible and maybe I've lost the touch and nothing comes out right anymore the world the job the bullshit I'm trying to shed gets in the way has knocked it out cold all the impulses that lead me to write what she shared tonight oh so long long long ago that I can only barely recall what it felt like to be me to be us so excited and jesus that's a dumb word so anticipatory so naive so no not naive that's trite we knew ourselves and knew where we were headed but hadn't yet encountered whatever it is that kills all we really hold dear what is that I still can't name it but I know I must must must recover nothing is so important nothing and the critic inside is telling me constantly just to erase this drivel I know it's bad I know what I'd think if I read this but today just today I'll leave it cliches and all because fuck it that's how we all think and poets just work really hard for synonyms and freshness...

"Don't fuck around. This is my religion." I wrote that on a whiteboard last year, drunk and dancing by myself after the rest of the party was gone, alone, to the music, feeling the ecstasy, that was part of it, but not all, I was still lonely collapsing into bed...

I alternate between hating people, thinking I'd genuinely be most happy as a hermit... and loving people, needing people, needing to share, knowing that's the most important thing, that my ceremonial ecstasy means very little in solitude.

oh, what was it... so fleeting...

it's gone... whatever it was...

I'll just go to bed... I could read back over this, for inspiration, for extension, but I know that will only make me want to erase it...

I have no idea what this weblog is for...

just a place for me to emote it seems lately...

exhibitionism? maybe... not necessarily...

oh shut up

Posted by crock038 at November 14, 2005 2:49 AM | Rambling


No, say them again, say those commments again, whisper them and then shout them out loud in somebody's face, into the people who don't 'get it' to anyone who will listen, don't pretend to let any of that go away, because then you are lost, then we are lost. There is magic, it still exists, I believe it is even closer and even farther now than it ever was before but if we shut up the muse we lose EVERYTHING.

Posted by: Solange Guillaume at November 25, 2005 10:05 AM

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