my book of hours
december 8
woke up as i often wake up, which is angry. Angry as fuck about gaza, angry as fuck at the entire western white supremacist apparatus. i feel so so full of rage, but i also feel still drunk from my unions christmas party, where i downed something like 5 free vodka sodas and somehow ended the night without puking everywhere or falling or getting into an argument w c. i like when anything psychoactive acts as a true narcotic for me. i like when alcohol actually tempers me a little, makes me docile and quieter 100% more horny. that is how i should be. the fljp side of this occures more often though, when it turns me angrt and cross which of course renders me unfuckable. im angry as fuck about gaza, im angry as fuck about everything, i think i can feel the entire fractured soul of this world screaming out to be nurtured, loved and healed. but im an aquarius moon so i guess such delusions and profound senses are normal.
what the fuck is this
november 20
11/18
Chores today and more chores. Last night we went to joes restaurant with m and e and got huge bowls of pasta and a bottle of janky twist off wine. we talked and talked, went to pegs for more wine where m came and e left, went to aunt ginnys for one more round. Im happy to have m around, another not-so-old friend that has been made to feel like an old friend bc of lifes circumstances and bc of what my last
Year in columbus means to me which is a lot bc of the tumult and confusion and shame
i woke up feeling broken [again], a rare hangover i guess titled me towards despair and anger. we fucked, i sobbed into my pillow afterward not bc of the sex but bc of everything else. The heaviness and lack of an escape, no hope or joy in this world is possible. i feel so ugly, so ugly that it makes me feel like i cant leave the house or move in the world as other people do
august 2
july 31
Zephyr in the sky at night, I wonder
Do my tears of morning sink beneath the sun?
She's got herself a universe, gone quickly
For the call of thunder threatens everyone
And I feel like I just got home
And I feel
And I feel like I just got home
And I feel
Faster than the speeding light, she's flying
Trying to remember where it all began
She's got herself a little piece of Heaven
Waiting for the time when Earth shall be as one
And I feel like I just got home
And I feel
And I feel like I just got home
And I feel
Quicker than a ray of light
Quicker than a ray of light
Quicker than a ray of light
Zephyr in the sky at night, I wonder
Do my tears of morning sink beneath the sun?
She's got herself a universe, gone quickly
For the call of thunder threatens everyone
And I feel...
Quicker than a ray of light, then gone for
Someone else will be there
Through the endless years
She's got herself a universe
She's got herself a universe
She's got herself a universe
And I feel
And I feel
And I feel like I just got home
And I feel
Quicker than a ray of light
She's flying
Quicker than a ray of light
I'm flying
july 299
july 26
im feeling good, soooo good its coursing through me. but then i have one off thought, i think of my parents older than they are now and sick and all the guilt of it, i think of finding myself stuck in my bad posture at 37, unable to make my neck straight, i think of the crushing weight of all of it and how completely alone i am, and ill just cry and cry and it feels like nothing has changed ever except for when i feel so good and then it reverts. i feel broken, like everyone else, but im the only one stunted and boring enough to write about it on my blog that i only read. an oyster, a pearl, blah blah
i saw something, it said "let people work remote! and turn the office buildings into affordable housing"... its something ive been thinking about a lot, the wfm thing. i feel like if you can wfm then your job is meaningless and should be dissolved. And yes the media/cultural ones too.
but its really just cope, bc a wfm job is what everyone desires now, but theres something to be said for a job, in the real world, in the heat advisory, where youre doing things and talking to people and only looking at a screen 10% of your 10hr long shift. even if youre job is, like mine, a lot of times glorified babysitting or the people youre trying to speak to dont understand english and you dont know spanish. like theres something to be said for having a, real, classic job. i hate that every person i meet that makes 100k + a year is like "WOW! thats my dream job!" when i tell them what i do. its all love but its a slap in the face. its like it seems like your dream was to make money and never get above 2k steps a day. but it also seems nice to only do 14hours of work per 40hr work week. and people w wfm jobs are always fresh, showered, put together. dewey skin and really nice clothes that seemed pressed and laundered well. i guess its bc when you see one its the first time theyve left their block all day or something. These are the bitchy ships that harbor in resentment in my brain >:P
they took my fob away at work, which means i cant drive, bc ive collided with too many stationary objects. my coworkers will have to drive me to my defensive driving retake courses and my retake driving test. the first collision was on 4/23 in the tunnel on the jackie. the second one happened 3 months to the day, on 7/23 in forest park. im scared for 10/23.
july 19
i miss when you could leave jeering hateful comments on depop listings. im looking for designer beach towels
july 18
my weight continues to fluctuate and creep up the scale to a point that makes me feel very uncomfortable and like i want to peel my skin off, scrape out my insides and put my skin back on like a jacket. i feel overweight like betsey johnson when she was married to john cale: "Betsey took amphetamine every day—diet pills, black bombers. She was a little overweight and very sensitive about it, and she would sit up all night making clothes. Betsey was a strong individual character." except i cant take amphetamines everyday anymore and i dont stay up late making anything. anyone have a black bomber?
yesterday a girl wS telling a funny story on the radio. she was at a party, and found a loose pack of cigarettes so she pockets them. soon after a random girl is up in her face like "you stole my wallet!!" and demands the cigarettes back. when the hero gives back the cigarettes she realizes the victims license and card were in the pck of cigarettes. she says "i wasnt try to steal your wallet, i was trying to steal your cigarettes!"
july 17
rockstar butt im my blankies favorite dj
july 15
Went to a reading at swiss institute with c, a, z, and new people k and p. To celebrate the launch of a “fanzine” ran by a literary farm ornsomething. Im lucky to meet some really cool people thru others fucking with c. Although everyone being from LA and having prestigious liberal arts degrees makes me feel like a philistine and a hick. We got to the east village and wandered around in the heat looking for food. B&h closed, the mexican place p wanted closed, east village ukranian restaurant or whatever is where we chose. I’m glad we ate there cuz the food they had at the reading was nasty.. im sorry!’!!! I had a radish w butter and it tasted like vomit… once again i’m so sorry. But there was natural wine that store upstate donated.
A couple minutes into the reading, someone shot a gun, or a gun went off somewhere in the other corner of the room. Bc all of us were sitting by the open door to the steps, we escaped promptly. C grabbed me by the hair and pulled me along with him while people ran down the steps onto the street, where we ran for a couple blocks in the heat before we realized it had happened and was over. Apparently the reader was struck in the shoulder and hauled out of the swiss institute bleeding out all over the grey and white interiors. He was transported to mount sinai and will be ok. The shooter was a disgruntled farm worker who hadn’t meant to hurt anyone, simply to ruin the event and send a message to the coordinators that hes nottobefucked with anymore.
The reading at the swiss institute was the first time I had witnessed something of this kind. In March or April C and I were in Philly visiting D. Me and C and D and B and H and A and B’s boyfriend whose initial I forget were chilling in Rittenhouse square smoking cigarettes. We left Rittenhouse and went to a bunch of shops in City Center on the way back to the train to south Philly. We went to Glossier and last minute decided to dick around in Brandy Melville. We left brandy empty handed and went to the Lombard-South stop on the Broad Street line, or tried to go to it, when we arrived seven squad cars all came screeching up and tons of policemen with their hands on their guns ran down into the station. Nobody from philly seemed phased but i was scared so we went to the next stop, Ellsworth Federal. Someone checked citizen and I guess someone had been shot and killed, just one person, in Lombard South, the condition that all those cops had been responding to. Someone on citizen put a video of the small little blood drip on the tile. Someone joked that the decision to go to Brandy saved our lives, or at least saved us the trauma of watching someone get shot at a septa station 50feet underground.
I'm glad no one was fatally hurt because it was a nice excuse to not sit through another reading, but still enjoy the trappings for a little bit. We left the east villGe and i spent the rest of afternoon on reddit looking for a support group i could go to for victims of shootings. Or more specifically victims of a non-mass shooting that happened at a poetry reading and lit mag launch. First thing i come across is r/TrueOffMyChest, “I witnessed a shooting this morning and honestly didn’t give a shit.”
july 14
last night i made kimchi, jjeol myeon and soju cantaloupe cocktails for c and i
july 13
Watched a plane fall out of the sky today at rockaway beach. There are always planes over rockaway cuz its right by jfk and theres one taking off every few minutes. So you just kind of keep hearing and hearing them take off, i bet the lifeguards and people who live here dont even hear them anymore. My grandma and grandpas house where they lived for 60 years, where my dad grew up and i kind of grew up, was right next to a train tracks. They go by every 20 minutes, apparently abraham lincolns funeral train went on those tracks by their house. When we stayed there the trains bothered my moms sleep because they kept her up all night. I liked hearing the trains, they didn’t wake me up. Whenever we mentioned it to my gparents they’d say that they didn’t even hear them anymore. my grandma died last summer and my grandpa had to get moved into a home. they're selling the house and auctioning off all the items online and its painful for me to look through but i have to so anything special doesnt get sold or more likely sent to the landfill. here's the catalogue https://mileyrealty.hibid.com/catalog/468172/household--woodworking-tools--tools--and-more-galion-online-on my grandpas decades and decades of tools, my aunts teenage ephemera, 60 years worth of pure stuff. looks like most of it will sell for $1-$3. i have to stop looking or ill keep crying, it feels like my grandparents are the last people on this earth to love me, and ive always failed to do right by them. i cant seem to do right by my grandmas ghost or my grandpa thats still alive
But the sound of of airplanes is a lot more quieting than a passing train, it drowns everything out and i can’t eavesdrop on the lifeguards talking shit about swimmers anymore. One of them says "it's like a swimming pool that's designed to drown in." Earlier he says "these old rockaway guys will bust your balls. I'm 20 years old. I'm just trying to get high and get my friends high."
So during the take off amidst the normal takeoff sound there was a “sonic rip..” it reminded me of david lynch twin peaks the return, i remember weird static scary cracks that this sounded just like. It was a pretty short burst but it had me and a lot of other beachgoers looking at the plane. It was far away, probably in the end stages of takeoff. It was over the ocean, and one of those little knobs fell clear off and started coming down slow. A little bit of smoke followed.
Searched “witnessed a plane crash reddit” to see what others had felt, if they had trauma from watching a plane crash, like how it felt. I was wondering if more people are planecrash victims or plane crash witnesses. There were at least a hundred people on the beach between B 94th and B96th. Not to mention all the other people up and down the beach, could be close to a thousand. And given the relative rarity of a plane crash, a statistic i look up often before flights. Bc im a baby and flying still scares me, i'd guess more people have seen one than been in one, but i can't find anything online.
But i tried to find accounts from other witnesses and couldn’t find much.
"The impact seemed to disintegrate everything"
“Jesus! I’ll take ‘horrible ways to die’ for $500, Alex”
“I saw that and I was shocked — I thought that today everything will be finished here after it crashes, I will also be dead”
"My first thought was, 'Omg, what if it hit a house?', And, it was just, my heart was in my throat. I couldn't breathe. I felt completely helpless,"
“I’d say being a plane when it crashes is more insane than witnessing it lol.
—>And the OP didn’t witness shit first hand.”
I can’t find a support group or anything like that, not even a thread online of people talking about their crashes. Most of the accounts I've read were from news outlets with a couple quotes from the witnesses interspersed. i can't find a weekly meeting. In my research I found a lot of people have dreams of witnessing a plane crash, they're often online asking experts what those dreams mean.
july 12
c and i enrolled in an intensive ceramics workshop for the next 5 weeks. my day will go like this: bike to work, teach kids orienteering in the heat for 10 hours, bike home, cold shower, change, back on the bike, arrive in a bushwick basement to work on pottery for three hours. i like when the days are full like this, no time to be distracted, depressed. a lot of my friends have left the city so im glad to have taken up a hobby while theyre gone so im not bored out of my mind
my goals for this weekend are: party a little bit with R, which means taking a little bit of cocaine and chainsmoking in chinatown, learn html so i can spruce up this site and make it look pretty, but ive always been bad at tech stucff, and to lock in a date with a therapist bc c has been begging. ive been struggling a lot even though everything in my life is finally good. which, i think means i might be depressed
july 11
coworker J is offering me his klonopin again. Every week he asks me "do you want some of my klonopin?" and i say yes with 0 hestitation and he's like "well uh I need my klonopin." this has happened three times. so this week im like stop offering me your klonopin, I know you need it. and i think that bothered him, me repeating that he "needs" it, so now he says, okay, i'll give you 2 or 3. not my intention!!! but id never refuse. however i foresee this being a long dance so i'm not expecting klonopin til we have more instances of that, if ever.
my coworker E said "this type of weather makes me want to lay around and get all fucked up."
i've never done benzos, theyre kind of my last non-scary drug i have yet to try. aside from the fake russian xanax i was doing a lot in the spring of 2021 in washington and new york. i've been scared of them bc of my ex O's cleveland skater friends. he was a shaker heights boy (iykyk) but hung out w a lot of skaters that came from shitty neighborhoods. a few of them got addicted to benzos and ended up in jail for robbing places while blacked out on them. i dont think this would happen to me per se but i know id get addicted like them.
today i heard 2 new songs i like, the boy with the perpetual nervousness by the feelies on wfmu wake and bake morning show and havalina by pixies that my coworker played in the tru k on the way to oakland lake
july 6,8,9
beach three days in a row. first day there was an older man working out and listening to really good music. Cant get enough of your love by barry white <3 and the love i lost by herold melvin & the blue notes. a dad and his adult son walked by and he said "this guys here every year. plays great music."
next day I went again, nothing memorable happened. Next day I went again, this time with M and N, not to be confused with the other M and N I sometimes spend time with but less and less lately
july 5)th
for dinner: borsct (farm share cabbage, potato, farm share golden beet, red beets, organic sour cream from fresh and save where we ran into N for the bijillionth time.
July 04
" K and I returned yesterday. Goose is healthy and has moved around. One of the stable hands indicated that this is not unusual for her to hide away in the reeds from time to time."
fun time at project xyz last night in greenpoint. E2s big beautiful mirrored apartment, chainsmoked, made some new friends.
we biked there and had one minor collision on the way back. this frustrated me. puddles formed from the rain, while riding through them gross Flushing ave industrial waste sludge splashed all up our backs. we found a popped open hydrant somewhere in bushwick. rode tthrough that a couple times, instant upliftment, it felt so good and gave the impression of washing off the Flushing ave water, which i needed cuz i was really fixated by the idea of being drenched in dirty water
july 3rd
here i am again. feeling frustrated and wrung out, mostly cuz its hot and i have to be outside and feel the sweat running down my legs and my coworkers wont stop TALKING to me and whistling. And my one coworker J is aggressive unless he takes his meds. i wish hed take his klonopin more, sometimes he cries at work and needs to take a klonopin. i understand his sensitive disposition but he'll take the pills at really inopportune times for us. he'll be like "can you drive i took a lot of klonopin" and his face will be all puffy and red, he'll lay down in the backseat and mope around for the rest of the shift.
heading to gemini fields where the horses live to check on the domestic goose that has removed itself from the flock for, some say, 10 days. The farmhands tell us she came with the property, which means she would have been alive in 1996. her willful seclusion bodes poorly for her but we can't help her in any way
second to last day in chicago
Yesterday i did nothing for the first half of the day, reading and jacking off on the air mattress and smoking weed. Felt good. felt even better bc the smoke was menacing outside and I had no choice but to stay inside and act like a teenager. Im on vacation!!! I got myself togeth and got on the 9bus south, where i got off on ashland and 18th. I walked to the national museum of mexican art and talked to this rockabilly couple that asked me for light and was once again violently struck by how friendly and open others are here. I thrive in clipped little conversations like these. The museum is always free, and quiet, with three small galleries. The ancient sculpture was my favorite; indiochristian paintings and retablos were lovely to see but of course sad in their way. A burrito at el mezquite per the recommendation of A with complementary chips and salsa and A diet coke. I sat eating and staring off into space, staring at other customers and the painting of frieda kahlo on the wall. Friedas a modern woman now, with truly humungous, bare tits, and smoking weed. Cool. I stared and felt bad for people that are afraid to eat alone at a restaurant. The woman next to me was also eating alone, talking on the phone w a friend about beating some girls ass. The whole argument started when my neighbor called the girl she beat up “Scary Berry,” which I guess is some longheld traumatic nickname
Reading in the smog of the burnt out church. Reading ab olwyn hughes, that terrible bitch, but my heart is sad that i’ll never know any of these people, their stories are dead now with all of them, janet malcom included. But why do i care? That i won’t know these people? Who lived crazily, like, 70 years ago before i was even an egg of an egg. There’s some dude peeing outside the church kind of fondling his cock.
The haunting of sylvia plath
I stop writing this, go to instagram, feel like people are making fun of me, but know in my heart that its so so much worse than that, i know that no one is thinking of me, that i am the smallest player in everyones lives including my own, and my selfpity must be a symptom of some latent narcissism or something