unslept kerry i dreamed i said something worth writing down, and in my sleep i thought to myself, Remember That Thought... Write it Somewhere Tomorrow. but i forgot it. and i went on to dream i was being chased by a woman with crazy electric hair and a gigantic knife, after seeing other people being killed by this lady, in this back attic room, sigh. i woke up shaking and went into a different room to sleep, and woke up again at 11 this morning. it was nice, for some reason, to sleep the day away the way i normally hate to do. i will be packing tomorrow, and sighing in anticipation of the lake, and trying to remind myself to write these things down in my journal, like the fact that i feel as if i am slowly being phased out of little circles, or replaced, with newer-and-more exciting friends from other schools [sigh] we were riding in the cadillac and i always feel so out of it around them, i suppose i do want to hang around johanna but i'm not willing to submit myself to exclusive, garage-band obscure music all this bullshit i once thought was so cool and i suppose all of that is cool [except the exclusiveness] but not the way people parade it around like a fucking medal, i realize that i always probably sound as if i think i'm better than everyone else like everyone else is fucking up the world but then honestly, i look back at myself and just by thinking all these things about other people and just by being so frustrated i realize i probably am just as full of shit as everyone else is. and i wonder what anyone would be like if they Weren't full of shit, if maybe i know someone who could be an example of that, but honestly i don't know if i do, or if that's even a good way to be, i just don't know, are my standards too high? i don't even think i have standards. or preferences or specifications or anything, just want to know people who are actually real, or get myself out of this part of my life where it is assumed that i will feel like i don't Fit In, my father who i am so much like in so many many ways never really grew out of that whole Fitting In thing but then again i admire him more than anyone else, and i do want to find some Group [rather than a handful of rare individuals] who really make me feel as if i belong, that would be so nice. i remember when i really didn't like myself but felt as if other people liked me, and now it is getting to be the opposite, or not quite, just that i feel as if people feel lukewarm towards me, does anyone else feel like a mere outline of who they are supposed to be? does anyone else feel guilty about not caring, as if being full of air and being careless leaves one without Purpose, and you feel like maybe purpose isn't all it's cracked up to be, because jackie and i discussed in a casual yet sincere manner how we felt about life-after-death, and it is a scary thought, being somewhat realistic and scientific thinkers as we are, grounded sometimes, i said that really Spirits and Souls aren't real at all, just Ideas, so if, when we die, then there's nothing, and we'll never Know, we won't know to be Sad, what is the point of living? i'm not trying to be morbid, just honest. how could things ever work themselves out, or come to an ending, a period at the end of our sentence, if there Are No Golden Gates, or no burning caverns, or whatever your idea of "afterlife" is, how could things ever be Done? there will be no closure. maybe just a theoretical recycling of souls, and still we'll be unaware. and that makes me kind of i dont want to say Scared because i feel as if i am scared of everything lately. last night james called me and he said, "I think i came up with something fun to do." "okay, what?" "would it be okay if i made you dinner?" oh of course. so he made a good dinner and he is a great cook and we ate on the patio, and watched a Guy Ritchie movie, and wandered around aimlessly and then i went home. and that's another topic that still has no future i dont know whats happening with it and i am tired of just going with the flow and letting things happen, because sitting around waiting around, nothing is happening. i never want to bring it up, never want to ruin this silly little cloud of bliss, soak myself in regret for even asking, spoiling the evening which Asking always happens to do. enough of this. 030531 ... 0of46 reading has kept me unslept, but i dont mind, i know i need the sleep but a good book loves me and i it, so this last eve we spent in the sensual embrace that only books and lovers enjoy i feel so much more creative without sleep, i think i sleep too much.... 030601 ... kerry there is nothing i know embedded deep in my chest as well as the hard shell surrounding my heart when i am sad. and i know that is true and real. not even my name though printed in ink on a certificate stating my existance, i know my birthday better than my name, but not even nailed into my skull, i dont know 2 and 2 equals 4 always because what about negatives, and i don't know Time or consecutivity because of wormholes taken into consideration, and i don't know books, because i confuse them with my own organic chapped-lipped and bloody thought, but i know my hands all-too-well where every hangnail breaks loose in desperate flailing attempt and every thread stuck to the moist tissue crystalizing naked where the skin once lay. and i know my legs and their color, and could pick them out of any by the sharp incline below an abused kneecap, and the slick scar tissue from shaving tragedies, and the constellations of freckles that form the letter K but i can't say i know the way i ?love? You, because of how it dangles helplessly from the tips of my familiar fingers, and flops lazily from toes when wakling, and is tread upon and rethuoght and dreamed and nightmared-over, heated and frozen and boiled, it drips from scared lips anxious to form the words so I may tell Someone, Please, someone too-open and dying inside as well...: the other part of me i know-- the wilted petals peeled aside revealing gray hairs and eyes dulled to the harsh wind that knocks the seeds from the stalk. 030605 ... kerry I remember the familiar feeling like a million tiny Roman Candles going off in my head all at once, and a fist harder than anything I could ever begin to compare clenching around my windpipe. I look into the bathroom mirror when I step out of the shower and see my parched lips and roped hair slung back and knotty. Looking at my own face makes me want to put my hand through the mirror because of so many different reasons. because i've never read hemmingway or vonnegut and i saw the true curve of my hips this afternoon sharp and wittling my waist down so severe for someone my height, and hated not what i saw but the fact that i didn't love what i saw. because, being the only girl in the car i feel so full and heavy and so ridiculous around any other girl as if i am drowning in their estrogen as if i have none of my own (this is not a reference to anything physical) because i forget to eat all the time, because my knees throb, because i looked sick this morning from lack of sleep and because i can't be the first to introduce myself and because i was the quiet one again i am always the quiet one while she played with my hair while she stared into my face then smiled and then just gazed intently and i knew it was just how she is and i knew i couldn't bring myself to do anything equally forward or outgoingly welcoming what to say? i'm the one who's supposed to sit and watch. it's just how i am. Now you're gone and I lie on my bed and read Rilke some nights and I can't even put the book down long enough to go to the bathroom. I have to take it with me and spend ten minutes in there just so I can finish another little masterpiece. And ordinarily if I hadn't spent so much on you I would still have words to fill my notebooks with, but this time it is different. This time, I have used up everything, and my hands are folded tightly to hide the fact that they're empty, and my tongue is flopping in my mouth like a dying fish while what I'm trying to say is surfing the crest of my tongue and never making it out past my busted lips. maybe it's just easy to blame things on you. maybe it's not you, it's me. people always say that, do they? maybe it's the sound your voice made when it hit my skull and cracked into my whole body at once from that single point and now i'm trying to figure out how i let myself fall apart. 030705 ... silentbob sit back dead weight and wonder unsure unslept uncovered the new light of dawn discovered through ungrateful eyes through 5-3 eyes alkaline_trio 030705 ... kerry finally leaves float down into their skeleton prints in wet cement... seeds magnetically are sucked back into the dandelion stalks. curtains slip closed, jigsaw puzzle pieces ZAP back into place, sun shuts down behind the scenery, slams the door of this open-ended question i had to pull from my teeth. it's answered and things are back to normal. the glass unshatters, the wine unpours itself. calm again i set down the phone. i open the drapes. i turn on the music and open the door. who am i feeling better for now, no one but my island, who has come floating back to me. upon it i set loose all my secrets and all my smiles. sometimes i stare at one corner of a room until it becomes so familiar and so dream-like that it scares me. and even then all i can do is continue to stare at it until i can for sure feel the rest of the room spinning away without me. leaving me lying here staring at the corner where 2 walls meet and turn into the ceiling. smelling and tasting and seeing everything i could ever possibly associate with that one corner all at once. fixed here. sometimes if i look at something for long enough it becomes foreign to my eyes. and everything else seems to fall away. this happens with a word if you say it over and over for long enuogh. it knots your lips and tongue together and you begin to speak a language you do not know. there is a fan spinning and the same sheet of wax paper is flapping and it is taking me someplace else. it makes a flickering, insect-pattern in the green light and makes the rest of the world disappear. sometimes i like to remain in one place for a certain amount of time and watch things change shape. shadows spit out new images, light fades and brightens, things expand and get smaller, tighter. the television somehow is smaller than it was 15 minutes ago and i'm not sure exactly how it has come to shrink. 030726 what's it to you? who go blather from