https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M8iQPz_13uk&list=RDM8iQPz_13uk&start_radio=1

You knew just what I was there for. You heard me saying a prayer for 

Someone I really could care for. When I love you it’s like invisibility, ultimity. I mean the feeling is invisible: I want you to have everything you want. Which I’m learning includes me. We are made just so under the same night, once. Springing resiliently from one thousand to the next. You don’t go on too many adventures do you? The second woman counted her dollars––palmed them like babies. Something pinwheeled touched the inside of my wrist in the Mystery section of the library. Forms of addressal fell away, entire worlds. You pass from one hand to the other, my hands. I step over us on my way somewhere. Redacted loosens its grip. You’ve found your vocation. My mother resorts to the microwave in her old age. Swans sing for reasons to do with design.  

Bruh

—Why do you keep doing that with your lips?
—Doing what?
—That.
—Oh I guess I'm just nervous.
—About what?
—Upstaging you.

Art Work

I FIND IT TOO PAINFUL NOT TO WRITE

I STOPPED ASKING WHAT MONEY IS USED FOR, TOO BUSY ASKING WHERE IT COMES FROM.

IT DRIPS OFF ME

1––I DON’T GET TO YOU

2––NO YOU GET TO ME

I’M IN SUNGLASSES THAT YOU FOUND

SHROUDED DIALECTICALLY

FROM THIS BLACK 

SUN

ONE GETS THE SENSE THAT EVEN IN THE MOST CAUSTIC OF CLIMATES, YOU DO FIND MOMENTS OF REPRIEVE. THEY DON’T FIND YOU. YOU ACTIVELY SEARCH FOR THEM. 

YOU ARE DRIVEN BY THE DESIRE FOR A HACK THAT WILL ALLOW YOU TO MAKE THE MAXIMUM AMOUNT OF MONEY USING THE LEAST AMOUNT OF TIME:

NOW: IN SIBERA A 20-MINUTE INTERVAL DURING WHICH THE SUN IS MOST VIBRANT, AND AT THE CORRESPONDING PLACE AT THE BACK OF HER SOLAR PLEXUS. WHOSE SLOW WARM STAYS WITH HER FOR AT LEAST AN HOUR, BUT REALLY IT’S THE WHOLE DAY. GEOGRAPHIC PHENOMENA TEND TO SEEM BOUND IN PLACE BUT REALLY THEY’RE JUST SEWN. 

BEYOND THE SIGNIFIED’S BEING BUTTONED TO THE SIGNIFIER, THERE IS THE POSSIBILITY OF AN ENTIRELY DIFFERENT FORM OF CONNEXION. A FREEDOM. A CONVERGENCE OF PARADOX OR REALITY WITH ITSELF. PURE MOVEMENT. SOMETHING FAINTLY GREEK? 

1––I SHOULD READ PLAYS WITH THE CHILDREN. 

2––WHICH ONES? 

1––PLAYS THAT DEPICT SELFLESSNESS AND/IN FRIENDSHIP, LOVE, AND REAL PAIN. 

Dad, I Wish You Would Make it Easier for Me to Hate You:

1––I WISH YOU WOULD GIVE ME A JOB.

2––WHAT WOULD IT BE?

1––I DON’T KNOW.

And that’s just the problem. I harbor latent resentments against your gender, self-hatred, nascent anger toward one or both of my parents, misgivings about time, a tendency away from sequentiality, my heart beats to strange polyvalences, blood courses through like archaeology, I can’t seem to remember what to do ever, “Your TBI is showing,” she thinks. Whatever whatever whatever. I’m willing to be the most both: schizophrenic and depressed girl on this train. 

“You, I wish you would make it easier for me to hate you”, is graffitied on someone’s blue Lexus sedan. I hope everyone reads it. I hope Google Maps sees it. 

When

How do I say when? I forgot to say because I wasn't sure when. And that's why. Really it's when that I say why. But to you. That's when. So say! Because when I said I say, that was why. You're when. I say to what that I can only see what's visible. And I mean that in the context of when. You're what. It's something I say to you.

Who am I and what is my debt to Yvonne Rainer?

Artist as Exemplary Sufferer

Artist as Self-Absorbed Individualist

Artist as Young Girl

Artist as Changer of the Subject

Artist as Medium

Artist as Ventriloquist

Artist as Consumer

Artist as Transgressor

Artist as Failed Primitive

Artist as Failed Intellectual

Artist as Shaman

Artist as Visionary

Artist as Transcendental Ego

Artist as Misfit

Stick To Me Like Glue

Even on your most confabulated days I still smell the honesty on your personal carcass...

Shy Girl

She is very desired. She uses her words sparingly, in the sense that she spares them from themselves. She was nervous about dancing, so she told me. This is her magic: What she feels, she is. Her appearance is yoked completely with her being. Her appearance is totally hers. There is volume to her––that kind of volume that costs nothing, weighs nothing, is nothing. She leaves you space to be. Her body is wise and quiet when she is doing something. The things she does feel lucky to have her. Three or four moments. She is like your little sister’s long hair sweeping across your thigh as she bends down at the dinner table to pick up your dropped fork. Her eyes meet yours and there’s nothing there, so there is everything there.