The heartbeat. Then blood. Although neither yet technically, it was life and death in miniature, shrunk to fit inside a single day. I keep thinking of spirits, how and when they choose to come back (who is this lima bean, threatening to leave the party having gotten just inside the door like o neverfuckingmind, just like I would [I hate parties]-??)....

holy balls I'm tired :/

I thought: this is how life is, ridiculous beyond comprehension. What I felt wasn't pain but a place of hollow, like a drum with the skin stretched tight. -Kingsolver, Animal Dreams

sean hayes - 3 a.m.
edward sharpe & the magnetic zeros - man on fire (little daylight remix)
mofro - footsteps
dead weather - will there be enough water

leftover cuties - you are my sunshine (love the trumpet)
maura o'connel - stor mo chroi
mumford n sons - timshel

I had a ton of shit I thought and wrote about WI, coming and going, that didn't quite cohere into interpretation(s) I felt at all word-certain of. Then I looked at it all again from the distance of a mere 2 weeks spent mostly asleep, and it was entirely recast in my mind since as well. In my current mental notes/version, what stands out is a prior trip I made there 16 years ago and a pic the Girl showed me in passing of Mark and his dog when he was puppy, 6 years ago, in which Mark looked … (?). His eyes were closed.

---------

So/meanwhile, I am thinking about picture taking and the fragility of “restrospect”. For instance, if I had begun taking pictures of my eyes and gut when starting fertility treatments that would net me chronic pain and 30+ pounds and no pregnancy, and if I had kept doing that once a month, say, what would I have seen? I would not go back and change anything, don't get me wrong (What is the point in even considering that? Ever?). But maybe if I had a visual record, it would flesh out what to Accept in what I see now.

In yoga, you’re supposed to welcome yourself. Think about that for a second. Being Hospitable.

Holy shit. Fuckn a.

Soon, most likely, I will write again about it all. Meanwhile, I note that I have more need of peace than even I knew. I sleep, the siren of sleep. I think of the most boring peaceful things I can think of to do that: chairs. Chairs, looking at them, not buying. An ice cream cone.

Ouch