Scouring Wind
Scouring Wind
Though the sun has come out & I got through to U.I. to restart my claim. I feel no satisfaction. I wrote a bit at Dave: I feel like I'm flinging teaspoons of water from the sea. What I do write feels like an evasion. But Dave is trying to sleep.
No mail, only spam in my e-mail & I need to compose a letter to someone at BCHP. So, despite the light....a certain lack of adventure, or likely possibility. Or rather, the likely possibilities are not the ones we wish for: last night my shoulder was worse, after a day of seeming a little better, and my scapulae, my "wings" are dissolving too. And my throat feels full.
And then I finished a good book & don't have but so-so books to read.
(Eavesdropping:) Girls are such experts on emotion.
BM Starbucks 3/28/01
Well, What Do You Expect?
For all my protestations (what protestations?), these little notebooks amount to journals—reportage, accounts of the day’s weather, my digestion (good today), joints & attitude (both bad). And if no one strikes up cafe conversations with me any more, I hated it 9 times out of 10 whenever anybody did in the old days. But—remember those long evenings in SF in the summer?
They’re even longer here, but I don’t notice. Oh, look, that old man has a big tattoo mandala on his leg. Has a big mandala tattooed on his skinny leg.
Lee says I look like a dyke, but I think I look like my dad w/ lipstick. I hear a snigger & turn around to see Lee peeking at me over the condiment bar.
The sun came out today. I did not write to BCHP or the Fire Dept. I did not answer the phone. I did get a rejection but it was typed & no great disappointment. Despite the sun, it’s a little cool. I asked the young counter girl the difference between the rice bowl at $3.99 & the special w/ steamed rice at $4.59—& she was baffled. The other clerk said, “But the special is on sale for $3.99.” I walked home (with the rice bowl), shaking my head.
I read the web because the Hotmail server was down—pain at night means torn cuffs. So, should I exercise? Use the heating pad? Would acupuncture help?
What about the traffic vision? What if Schopenhauer had taken Prozac. What if I did?
I did take an aspirin.
BM Starbucks 3/30/01
An Übermensch Like Me
What does that mean? I was talking to Lee about history, and...
Late Saturday café—lovers meetings, friends rendezvous(es), maybe even interviews, & sales talks! I see people rolling their shoulders, rotating their necks. It looks odd but I know the pleasure, the need. The relief. But never quite the relief you'd wish.
Conversation...movies, ferries, restaurants. Places we go in our cars.
Then the bay window across the way (Olive) lights up the planes as if painted. But I glance out the side & see the ugly back of Fantog Hall (where I used to live) tinted the color of dirty toast. That means the sun has shot a little beam under the buttocks of a lowering cloud and...
So maybe it won’t rain on me.
I have no excitement, except what I can stir up myself, by myself. Imaginary things.
BM Starbucks 3/31/01
Vicious or Precious
Lucious, of course, means full of lux: light, volupté & lush.
Today, the wind is vicious & I am, as ever, pre-. Walking into the park (Volunteer) singing, "Come hug me, I wanta feed you off my body." A Boom-Boom song if there ever was one. I mean as organisms, we women.... This happened because that black Persian ("Lucky") came running out to meet me, and you could not have stopped me from gathering him/her up against my flesh. Best thing that happened to me all day. I hate Sunday.
I hate Sundays anyway & today was cold & rainy at moments & then a teasing sun—& last night the neighbors (Jeff T. has company with a dog, jingle jingle) woke me up three times. Then today my neck feels more crowded than usual. In fact, it feels downright unhealthy. I've been taking kelp—good or bad?
I can still swallow. But it doesn't feel right.
Part of me slides off these ills—"Oh, they're nothing"—& part of me knows I'm doomed. That's the smart part that nobody likes, and she's always right too. Like the god that people do not acknowledge. No!
And I don't have anything to read w/ rivet. I'll try Mavis Gallant, one more story. I don't love these people. Not love, not hate, just don't feel for them. Now Icky Dave...
The rain stops, as if it hadn't started, & the Starbucks has that significant painterly look. Lucious.
BM Starbucks 4/1/01
Though the sun has come out & I got through to U.I. to restart my claim. I feel no satisfaction. I wrote a bit at Dave: I feel like I'm flinging teaspoons of water from the sea. What I do write feels like an evasion. But Dave is trying to sleep.
No mail, only spam in my e-mail & I need to compose a letter to someone at BCHP. So, despite the light....a certain lack of adventure, or likely possibility. Or rather, the likely possibilities are not the ones we wish for: last night my shoulder was worse, after a day of seeming a little better, and my scapulae, my "wings" are dissolving too. And my throat feels full.
And then I finished a good book & don't have but so-so books to read.
(Eavesdropping:) Girls are such experts on emotion.
BM Starbucks 3/28/01
Well, What Do You Expect?
For all my protestations (what protestations?), these little notebooks amount to journals—reportage, accounts of the day’s weather, my digestion (good today), joints & attitude (both bad). And if no one strikes up cafe conversations with me any more, I hated it 9 times out of 10 whenever anybody did in the old days. But—remember those long evenings in SF in the summer?
They’re even longer here, but I don’t notice. Oh, look, that old man has a big tattoo mandala on his leg. Has a big mandala tattooed on his skinny leg.
Lee says I look like a dyke, but I think I look like my dad w/ lipstick. I hear a snigger & turn around to see Lee peeking at me over the condiment bar.
The sun came out today. I did not write to BCHP or the Fire Dept. I did not answer the phone. I did get a rejection but it was typed & no great disappointment. Despite the sun, it’s a little cool. I asked the young counter girl the difference between the rice bowl at $3.99 & the special w/ steamed rice at $4.59—& she was baffled. The other clerk said, “But the special is on sale for $3.99.” I walked home (with the rice bowl), shaking my head.
I read the web because the Hotmail server was down—pain at night means torn cuffs. So, should I exercise? Use the heating pad? Would acupuncture help?
What about the traffic vision? What if Schopenhauer had taken Prozac. What if I did?
I did take an aspirin.
BM Starbucks 3/30/01
An Übermensch Like Me
What does that mean? I was talking to Lee about history, and...
Late Saturday café—lovers meetings, friends rendezvous(es), maybe even interviews, & sales talks! I see people rolling their shoulders, rotating their necks. It looks odd but I know the pleasure, the need. The relief. But never quite the relief you'd wish.
Conversation...movies, ferries, restaurants. Places we go in our cars.
Then the bay window across the way (Olive) lights up the planes as if painted. But I glance out the side & see the ugly back of Fantog Hall (where I used to live) tinted the color of dirty toast. That means the sun has shot a little beam under the buttocks of a lowering cloud and...
So maybe it won’t rain on me.
I have no excitement, except what I can stir up myself, by myself. Imaginary things.
BM Starbucks 3/31/01
Vicious or Precious
Lucious, of course, means full of lux: light, volupté & lush.
Today, the wind is vicious & I am, as ever, pre-. Walking into the park (Volunteer) singing, "Come hug me, I wanta feed you off my body." A Boom-Boom song if there ever was one. I mean as organisms, we women.... This happened because that black Persian ("Lucky") came running out to meet me, and you could not have stopped me from gathering him/her up against my flesh. Best thing that happened to me all day. I hate Sunday.
I hate Sundays anyway & today was cold & rainy at moments & then a teasing sun—& last night the neighbors (Jeff T. has company with a dog, jingle jingle) woke me up three times. Then today my neck feels more crowded than usual. In fact, it feels downright unhealthy. I've been taking kelp—good or bad?
I can still swallow. But it doesn't feel right.
Part of me slides off these ills—"Oh, they're nothing"—& part of me knows I'm doomed. That's the smart part that nobody likes, and she's always right too. Like the god that people do not acknowledge. No!
And I don't have anything to read w/ rivet. I'll try Mavis Gallant, one more story. I don't love these people. Not love, not hate, just don't feel for them. Now Icky Dave...
The rain stops, as if it hadn't started, & the Starbucks has that significant painterly look. Lucious.
BM Starbucks 4/1/01
posted by K. E. Ellingson at 4:05 PM
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