inside thoughts
thinking about how if i die maybe no one will notice until my cat has already eaten my corpse.
thinking about that line from richard siken, “tell me how all this, and love too, will ruin us. these, our bodies, possessed by light. tell me we’ll never get used to it.”
thinking about getting used to it.
thinking about how hard it is to make art about suffering when you’re still in the suffering.
thinking about touch, aching touch, vacant touch, sour touch, easy touch, almost touch, desperate touch, erratic touch, tender touch, lost touch, every kind of touch we ever had.
thinking about the marie howe poem, what the living do. thinking about that yearning.
thinking about how un-expendable my father is to me. remembering the smell of his cigarette smoke. remembering it fondly, even still. imagining a world without my father in it.
thinking about that line in grey’s anatomy, “i don’t know how to live in a world where my dad isn’t.” hoping i never have to know what that feels like. hoping he and i will be the first two invincible beings.
thinking about what our version of renaissance art will be. it’s definitely not going to be that fucking imagine video, i can tell you that.
thinking about how our lives are just details accumulating all the time and how when you zoom out too much it all fades to black.
thinking about that line from schitt’s creek when alexis says, “it’s like a witch’s house in here, david!”
thinking about opening my curtains. maybe tomorrow.
thinking about the teddy bear i left at a gas station when i was four. hoping he’s weathering the storm.
thinking about how nice it would be if someone twice my size laid on top of me, slowly suffocating me to death.
thinking about how sex workers are the true essential workers.
thinking about writing a really bad novel just to have something to do.
thinking about doing an instagram live video of me crying in the dark at 2:13am.
thinking about texting my ex and asking what it’s like to be a father.
thinking about texting my other ex and asking if she’s still in town.
thinking about texting all my exes and asking if they still love me.
thinking about not being worthy of love.
thinking about how we can never really see what we look like with our eyes closed.
thinking about the feeling of your hand around my throat.
thinking about the fragility of the human body.
thinking about my neighbor charlie, who waters his plants and watches the birds and talks to my cats.
thinking about how i would hold my sister if our father died. what i would say to comfort her. how it would be easier than comforting myself. remembering how her hair smells.
thinking about every embarrassing thing i’ve ever said.
thinking about drinking a cocktail of hand sanitizer and aloe vera to burn and soothe my insides.
thinking about setting some things on fire.
thinking about hitting a watermelon with a baseball bat.
thinking about the persistent hum of the cicadas in the summer. how i can hear them through the walls.
thinking about the endless pulse of blood that propels my body forward through the great slog of time.
thinking about hearing someone’s voice over the phone. the background static, the sound of air.
thinking about how it all means nothing if we’re alone.
thinking about not being alone.