notes

i-phone notes, july 20-27

“I just want to make my own YouTube channel about boy things, you know, with a cool name like Stunter, or B boy, or something like that, with skateboarding tricks.

But you don’t know how to skateboard

well I could learn, right”

– B. Law

//

TELL ME WHAT YOU KNOW.

//

Therapist:
What do I want
Do I want less custody
Do I want to a job instead of grad school
What do I want in a person
If I could have my perfect magical unicorn life what would it look like
(Write it all out this week)

//

Clementine: I just pooped like an adult!

(I discover this means sitting on the rim on the toilet with the seat up)

//

The problem with nut butter is that no matter how much I do or do not eat it never satisfies me, I feel the same way about sex drugs rock and roll and most things, except for broccoli because it’s fucking disgusting.

//

emotional barf
trail mix, body aches
life in minor key
babies and messes
and hearts on fire…
there are many
inconvenient truths,
he was right.

//

Me and my baby

We eat peanut butter off a spoon

We bathe once a week

We sneak out at dawn

We fight in grunts and guttural noises

We go to sleep

We try to dream.

Humble pie and grown up things

Me and my baby

We do and we do and we do

What we do.

And that’s the end of that.

(Maybe I am at the end of me.

Maybe He is at the beginning. )

//

Paper towels
quarters
kombucha
bananas
tortillas (both kinds)
greek yogurt
avocado (lots)
apples
kale
melons
BLUEBERRIES
heavy cream
almond butter
peanut butter
ground beef
chicken
eggs (x 2)
nuts
toothpaste

//

dream haiku

her name was Feather
nurses costume latex gloves
syringe in left hand.

//

les blank movies:

spend it all
gap toothed woman

//

diapers
bathroom cleaner
new sponge
nail polish
new dishwashing gloves
open bank account for baby
pay internet bill

//

“I can really imagine myself doing that,”

I reveled to myself,

Out loud.

Standard
poetry

faith (question mark)

I sit,
I remember,
I think about
when I read Kierkegaard
a few hot July’s
ago.

I sit,
I remember,
I think about
his
thoughts on
faith.

About it being spontaneous.
A leap into nothing.
A mental event
without cause–
free–
ultimately
pointing towards the
supernatural.

I FEEL like that exists
somehow,
I FEEL like I wait for those
moments,
unbound by
causation,
the will,
clumsy
intention.

I wonder, is faith a feeling (question mark)*, **
Does that even make sense to say out loud (question mark)*

I don’t really think so.

But:
I feel like my body KNOWS
that such freedom exists,
on some primordial level,
even though my head rejects
even
the
thought
of
it.

(It made me sea sick,
at the time,
to think about such a thing.

It makes me sea sick now,
but for
different reasons.)

*the question mark is comically broken on my computer so for the duration this will have to do.
** I need to change this, it doesn’t make sense in the context of what I said, I need to think about it for a while tho.

Standard