Me? Unecessary inhibitions? By the sound of it, I have too few inhibitions. Too much urge. Too vital, too much warmth beneath the skin. Driven to distraction. I don't know how to feel about it. Sometimes I wonder if it's strange, odd. What if it really is just me? Me, more than slightly left of normal? Anyway. I woke up feeling exhausted. Dreading today. Worn out and dissatisfied by dreaming. My bed felt so cold. The quiet was not comforting.
My next to last class of driving school is tonight. Three hours of absolute boredom. I've learned nothing in that class that I couldn't have learned by re-reading the driver licensing booklet. There's just me sitting for three hours, shifting uncomfortably in my seat, counting the minutes. Writing letters to keep awake. I think that I might do some actual writing tonight. I've had some stuff floating about in my head lately. The problem with my writing primarily YA stuff for the past year has been that I've neglected other parts of my writing. Darker parts, deeper parts. I have a few poems that need to be pieced together, and a story. I haven't yet decided wether or not to use original characters or play in someone else's universe. It's been so long since I got into others' heads.
On the reading front, my YA kick has been coming to a close for the time being, and I'm ready for something darker. Possibly poetry. I always meant to pick up copies of The Coronary Garden and Dime Store Erotics by Ann Townsend. I saw her read last year, and it was profoundly uncomfortable and inspiring to hear her quiet, smooth voice speaking of blood and windowpanes and the space between skin. There was a gritty layer to it, a profound and solemn wryness.
These were two of my favorites:
Old-Fashioned Kissing
Ann Townsend
1.
Your mouth an oh of curiosity,
your mouth’s
courteous tongue touched mine—
the rain
against our faces,
the very small umbrella,
breakage in the distance.
2.
But at that point
I closed my eyes
to the distance.
Your dangerous arm
fitting neatly
my waist,
your shoulder blades like wings.
3.
They cut things, you said,
when I stood behind you.
So I touched you.
Is that a sign, you said.
Your mouth
soft with kissing,
my breathing in agitation.
4.
I had to go home.
I had to recover
my breath,
hide it away, fasten the clasps
of my loosened clothing.
Oh skin, I said.
I lifted your sweater anyway.
5.
I backed away. We drank water
like there was no more water.
The glass was very clean.
A quick kiss and goodbye.
Then again goodbye
at the doorway.
Then some pleasant wrestling
6.
at your car.
Never far from your hands
and their measured dance
upon me,
still I suffer
the tug between our bodies,
the long distance live wire.
From The Coronary Garden
Ann Townsend
1.
What a fine package
you've come wrapped in.
A swathing of hospital cotton,
from the brisk whiteness a tulip unfolding from each wrist.
A conduit, first here then there,
Your blood in its orbital system
circled safe in its chamber until
you let it out. Why did you let it out?
Plasma makes a great adhesive, a sticky blessing
between us. But I'm not the wounded one.
They stick together, my fingers,
to the windowpane where I touch it.
2.
With tulips, "sometimes a rascally root
produces a gallant flower."
And there are "some tawdry colors
that may be fringed with beauty."
My hand on the windowpane it leaves a mark.
The blood makes it tacky.
A transport medium the doctor says,
rinsing his in the cleansing water.
Food, excrescence, lymphocytes, oxygen,
the red blood cells like cheerful donuts—
all on my hands
my hands a testament to your profusion
3.
And you oblivious
to the leakage we found together,
the doctor and me, him patching you,
me scooping up the shape the red assumes
as it coagulates into your palms,
into glue and glove,
the doctor shaking free of it,
and if I loved you better
would this mortal scene stay unwritten?
They "love an airy, moyst place," the tulips,
their fabulous tongues.
The flowers you choose for your coronary garden
Hmm. Good stuff.
As for the phone meme thing-- I got 11 messages and text messages. Some I recognized (Jake, Chris, Jae, Teija) and some were stated (Veronica, that was so sweet!). Others I didn't so much know--
petit_gateau, was that you singing to me? Any clues? And thank you to everyone who left messages. I got busy yesterday and wasn't able to reply to other memes, so maybe I'll do text messages today if I get a second. Also, Anna-- I'll give you a call today. I'm sorry that I didn't yesterday. My brain was entirely elsewhere, and by the time I remembered, it was 11:30.Lost. Dude. I have to get season 1 if only so I can watch this season.
...and that is truly all.