nobody asked, but...

4:14pm: there's something false about a too-warm sunday in late october. it's fake, it's a reprieve, nothing to be counted on, but that doesn't mean that i can't enjoy the moment. tank tops without sweaters and a balmy smell make me feel like summer vacation, like lazy days with hoppy beers, like chalked hopscotch outlines on hot sidewalks. it's not the vacation that i need, exactly, but these days, i take what i can get.

7:10pm: maybe i'm hungry, or maybe it was the drinking last night, or maybe i'm just kind of burnt out, but i'm so incapable of reading right now. i've been trying; i pulled down an old art history volume that i'm been meaning to spend some time with and curled up with it on the couch. i flipped through a number of chapters, stared at the pages and then gave up. i'm reduced to clicking back and forth between a number of webjournals for something that's more at my current comprehension level.

sigh. i hate when i'm stupid.

7:27pm: i am roses, well, one rose, stuck in the middle. thorns poking out from the curves in my belly and the small of my back. bright red like blood drippingdrippingdripping out of orifices, my namesake, my birthright, my legacy.

9:43pm: r.i.p.
just when that feeling in the pit of my stomach had gone...

10:34pm: my inability to concentrate on anything for longer than a nanosecond just may drive me mad. i now understand what a serious withdrawl must be like; i literaly want to crawl out of my own skin, lay my organs on the wood floor and watch them cleanse, breathe, peacefully, quietly. i'd like some ritalin, adderall, anything that allow me to sit comfortably on my couch and read homi k. bhabha's excellent article, "DissemiNation: Time, Narrative and the Margins of the Modern Nation"* in peace. i want a hand on my back, rubbing circles in time with my breath. i want to lay down and sleep for hours, and then i want to wake up rested.

tea. maybe tea will help.