I have slept too long in the sun

You woke me for the fiesta and I didn’t know you

I don’t know you still

Feeling like some majorly damaged goods

I spend a lot of my time asking myself “What should I do?” and thinking “I don’t know what to do.”
(I’ve adopted these lines from a Goddard movie. Anna Karina’s lines. Seems to make my feelings less mine and elevate them to something existential/universal.)

I’m having trouble with this break up. Dealing with sinking self-esteem. I’ve never been broken up with before.  I have, but it wasn’t like this. He cares about me, but doesn’t love me and there’s nothing either of us can do about it. Seems sort of hopeless. I like to think about it and make myself sad at least 3x a day. Seems like if I’ve made it to the evening and haven’t cried at least once it is because I woke up and started drinking/got stoned right away. I don’t know that I loved/love him. Still it seems like he is something really great I had once and don’t have now. It’s like before, when we were together, I would think that my “existence is valid” because this guy loves me. So maybe my former self was “more valid” than my current self.

It’s too bad I always mess things up.

Potential reasons that he might have for not loving me:
I spill things.
I talk really loud in public places.
I have too many opinions.
I drink too much.
I don’t love most people enough/see the good in people enough.
I have a soft belly
Morning breath?
Sometimes I fart.

2x about how it must be someone's fault that I'm unhappy and obviously it can't be my fault. No, never my fault.

forgive me I have sinned

if you read beneath the lines of my text message

you'd know where my heart fell

deep in my belly, heavy

swallowing your goodness through my very most big loud mouth

getting overly excited about

chicken wings and tomorrow morning kisses

both of which are never enough

I am hungrier than most and you don't have enough meat

on those arms

to wrap around me





I am crying on my commute home

I am passing pizza shop after pizza shop after pizza shop

pretending that you are in the car

I yell at you about your lack of fire

do you dream at all!

can you hate! are you real anyway!

no, you are not in the car

and whats it matter, what are you anyway

white knuckles gripping wheel

music loud enough to stop thinking

I'm feeling SUDDENLY INCURABLY ALIVE/ANGRY

and where are you to tell me quiet quiet

to make me sorry

(for myself)

Louis De Funes - Extract from "L'homme orchestre"

Christmas at huntington bank

she leaned across the counter and whispered, conspiratorially, "7. 36"

the numbers were expressed kindly, implying that there would be much abundance later
and that for some us it rains more than for others
but still the holidays were coming and for all of us it snows

felt so connected for a second, then
mourned that we were eternally separated by the lime green counter top
remembered she is only doing her job

i crumpled up my receipt and grinned, walked out into the cold