12/25/2005
Sedatives are The Color of Invisible
03.29.01
11.24.03
[ ]
I like to write in silver[1], being the closest color to invisible. Sedatives are the color of invisible. Sedatives turn my capillaries to spun glass, also silver. I am homesick for my boyfriend’s bony shoulder—in this room people’s voices shell-edge sharp. “What happens at a lame party – everyone starts playing with the dog.” Voices, flattened glass pebbles, my ovoid head – the impact is omnidirectional. In college playgrounds the sunlight smells like cappuccino foam – I trade the sound of grass blades crunching for my tooth-marked thumb in my mouth. I’m lost; there’s a strip of muslin on my face. I’m lost; my feet refuse to recognize my head. Xanax makes the teacher’s voice echo. The tiles threaten to rearrange themselves. Stomach squeezes, I want to go home. Now would be a good time to knit socks. Must one be pretentious to wear black sneakers? I want a Christmas tamale and a chocolate hat. I want someone to take me shopping—I’ll be good, I’m not strong enough for him; I’m going to fail again.
[1] N.B.- Original notebook page written in pale silver ink on white paper; writing is only visible/legible at angle. ¶ 5:57 AM
11.24.03
[ ]
I like to write in silver[1], being the closest color to invisible. Sedatives are the color of invisible. Sedatives turn my capillaries to spun glass, also silver. I am homesick for my boyfriend’s bony shoulder—in this room people’s voices shell-edge sharp. “What happens at a lame party – everyone starts playing with the dog.” Voices, flattened glass pebbles, my ovoid head – the impact is omnidirectional. In college playgrounds the sunlight smells like cappuccino foam – I trade the sound of grass blades crunching for my tooth-marked thumb in my mouth. I’m lost; there’s a strip of muslin on my face. I’m lost; my feet refuse to recognize my head. Xanax makes the teacher’s voice echo. The tiles threaten to rearrange themselves. Stomach squeezes, I want to go home. Now would be a good time to knit socks. Must one be pretentious to wear black sneakers? I want a Christmas tamale and a chocolate hat. I want someone to take me shopping—I’ll be good, I’m not strong enough for him; I’m going to fail again.
[1] N.B.- Original notebook page written in pale silver ink on white paper; writing is only visible/legible at angle. ¶ 5:57 AM
