9.12.12 remix

the landlady gathered up the law, some paper and lies, tied them together like a bundle of black flowers then sprung upon them. the RDA of stress doubled. one morning they heard her walking up the hall toward them in the little room. they pulled their favorite jeans like second skin up and over the kneecaps. they squinted and came up on their toes. perked up their senses as best they could. out of the fires of passion and creation comes frequent destruction. to dissipate the pain they endured by painstaking measures to avoid scrutiny, they smoked some weed. capillary action in the eye. you better get out of here, she shouted through the door. you and your cat. you cannot stay!   #katyamills

Journal # 11.07.15

I am living between holidays, between pages, between headaches from a screen, between meals, between distances. And probably between relationships, if I ever date again. I'm not sure why I would, though, I guess I used to enjoy suffering with short bursts of pure love. I miss my landlady from Oakland, she lives in Napa Valley now. She always did enjoy wine. I used to be able to wake up and splash cold water on my face and feel okay. That was so long ago I'm surprised I still recall it. Now I'm much happier, but I rarely feel okay, does it make sense?