11:28pm

Another expensive class: on fairy tales
Taught me variants: I heard one
today. Of course, driving. (Orphaning self.
Preparing? A possibility.) Anyway,
Beast of Burden is a Mom Favorite,
and it played. Familiarity held
my attention.

Rhett Butler entered the frame.
He could've sung. He couldn't have
been the beast, but he took one.
Busily professing, Mick & Margarets Hood-
Hero Butler blindly assuming the uniform
of beast. Welcoming with diadems & doubt.
The nasty dog. 

...
Bought the drooling nag and rouged velvets.
Planted. Tipped his hat and tipped
the bottle. Cut glass. Wept,
despite Gables hesitation.

Fog & open windows & careening stairs &
dynamite & red taffeta.

12:32pm

I can barely read A Confederacy of Dunces because it hits far too close to home. Didn't expect that.

10:34pm

Don’t lament so much about how your career is going to turn out. You don’t have a career. You have a life. Do the work. Keep the faith. Be true blue. You are a writer because you write. Keep writing, and quit your bitching. Your book has a birthday. You just don’t know what it is yet.

You cannot convince people to love you. This is an absolute rule. No one will ever give you love simply because you want him or her to give it. Real love moves freely in both directions. Don’t waste your time on anything else.

Most things will be OK eventually, but not everything. Sometimes you’ll put up a good fight and lose. Sometimes you’ll hold on really hard and realize there is no choice but to let go. Acceptance is a small, quiet room.


One hot afternoon, during the era in which you’ll have gotten yourself tangled up in heroin, you will be riding the bus and thinking what a worthless piece of crap you are when a little girl will get on holding the strings of two purple balloons. She’ll offer you one of the balloons, but you won’t take it, because you believe you not longer have the right to such tiny, beautiful things. You’ll be wrong. You do.

---Dear Sugar//CHERYL STRAYED

1:31pm

Joyeux? Anniversaire:

• BOWLIN'
• Lunar Brewery VP
• ???
• Six Flags! But weather forecast ain't so hot.
•  tattoo?

Outwearied 12:12am

There's a sound calling inside.

It's a puppy in a cardboard box,
driving toward three towns over.
Panting in the backseat.
A pink ribbon around its neck.
Feeling the motion, seeing only that brown plainness.
Feeling the halt,
Feeling an upward rush.
Squealing with delight at newness.
Being set down on the side of the road.
Unknowing of this, or any wheres.
Hearing a muted rollick of rubber pass away.
Thinking it's play.

There's a sound calling my name.

It's the organization of microbes;
a clean surface.
Erased: the kinship of dust.

There's a sound replaying.

The open/close of the front door,
the 'Hello, Kitten.' of my
mothers voice. Routine is empty,
but absence is sheet metal.
It's April but my skin is still
akin to industrial paper. Mass
produced. Sheeny all the wheres I ever see
anymore.

This is desertion.
Involuntarily, Me.

8:09pm

The Val Tracking Device Experiment:

Y'know you remind me so much of myself at your age when I had my first professional job. I'd go and sit in my car on my lunch hour and smoke and read my book just to get away from it all... I'd nicotine up so I could go back in.

• The rash
• Spent a semester on Billy Budd.... joining in on Shelley's lit talk. (Dante)

2:51PM

Une reve je me souviens.

I am driving down a road well-known to me, but I blow way past my turn-off to go home. The road is dirt and blustery. A road crew is working and a young man signals me to stop. I get out of my car and he tells me the road is closed, I should turn back, and can he help me any further? He is a ginger. He is tall and rugged and very handsome. I am sheepish and thank him, no. He was very at ease, humble, brushed away dust or dirt from his right eye.

I felt I should say more, say what I wanted to say, but I didn't.

7:17pm

Today I gave a false identity. This man in front of the Speedway kwik-e-mart was hawking newspaper subscriptions to benefit kids with muscular dystrophy. Allegedly. He let everyone else go by but me, of course. I HATE being hawked at. Leave me the fuck alone! Plus, I bet you're a scammer. How much of that money is reallllly going to the kids. I should ask that to the next peddler.

Anyway. He wouldn't take 'no' for an answer, so I bullshitted him. I furnished him with a false name, address, phone # & signature right off the top of my head.

Afterward, I felt like an asshole. Simultaneously, I felt great. FUCK YOU! LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE. I just want to buy some smokies. I don't want to be harassed/peddled. Really one of my biggest pet peeves.

Anywho. Goal: 

• Cook at least once a week.
• Cook at least two new recipes per month.
• Blog evidence.

This way, I will hopefully be more confident in the variety of my dishes, try new things, and feel pride.

12:29PM

I'm at puke-point in TriggerTown. Annie & Val are trying my patience with the non-stop boobery.
Val can't stop ranting about her grandmother's hair density and fill in the fucking blank. Anything.
Annie keeps bitching about everything under the sun having to do with work that will never change.

It's because I've been gone three days. Just need a period of adjustment to get past it.

Still pissed about this weekend. Fucking mother being so goddamn cavalier. She's got so much shit going on I'm not allowed to expect her to give a fuck.

11:51pm

I just purchased DDP Yoga Pack 1. $70 and a lot of hope.

My body is loaded with stress, stiffness, and a bit of flab. I'm 23. This ain't happy. I'm taking a chance and I'm hopeful I will work this shit. I wanna feel the bang, DDP. I want to feel like I can be active and the shit won't kill me. Which is where I'm at now. Ultra sedentary. Buh.

So here we go.

6:44pm

Aunt J has cancer. Round 3.

Gettysburg on July 14th! YES.

Darling works tmm!

Need to:

• Schedule Leah
• Schedule J&R

 Major terrorist plot in Canada?

9:35pm

I am a fool. I am the fool for everyone. I am the fool you can ignore and laugh about behind closed doors. I am the pathetic whelp no one takes seriously.

I may be loved, but I'm no one's favorite. My sibling can be as horrendous, rude, weak, cowardly, fake, cruel as she likes, but she is the one. She is the golden child that I couldn't possibly compete with. There's nothing I've done wrong, other than be born unlike her. She will always get the breaks, the laughs, the camaraderie. I get to be the "load", the "pushy", "bossy" difficult one.

I live in a house where having no expectations is prized, and excitement and dreams are loserish, and lame. I am dumber because I get excited and those things I am excited about are not worth anyone paying attention to. Nobody can put aside their bull shit or lack of enthusiasm to the side to do something with me. I'm not worth it, nor are my plans.

All day I've wanted to throw a glass against a brick wall. I've wanted to scream and rage. I'm in that mood where I want everyone to know my rage and I don't feel like suppressing myself.

9:18am

Prediction: my family and friends will forget and/or do nothing for my bday except Valentina and Darling. Possibly even Judy, who is not a friend.

It's two weeks away, and I'm feeling the ominous rumblings already.

I 1:22am

I'm using the correct flour. The correct flour is necessary. If you bake, you have to do this with geometric precision. You have to sift. Sift. Sift. You have to, or it bloats and it curdles. Curdles is the new word on Jody's tear-away calendar. As if she's so profound. Just because she has great style, doesn't mean she is deep. She's not. My clothes don't have rhinestones and I've definitely been around the block before. No one can take that away from me. Sift a few more minutes, and voila. Or it curdles. And/or. 
Last night Daniel told me he had to get up early for work. He's a doctor for god's sakes. Don't they make their own hours? I mean Mark, he can get away with that because he's a fireman and they have to always be on time. He bought me this beautiful Fossil watch with a ginormous face, so I'm always on time, too. He gave me a functional, beautiful cubic zirconia gift. He likes my garter belt. Daniel likes my watch, too. Just my watch and my earrings on.
Busy was talking about some superhero whose cape got caught in a revolving door. Shots to the chest, and he was history. Maybe he could've used a watch. Sift. Sift. Sift. 

Fontana patted the sifter brusquely and set it down on folded paper towels. Her daughter Partridge sat at the dining table, pushing around kale with a plastic fork.

"Partridge! I'll set the timer on you. Finish your greens and bring me your homework. Five minutes."

Partridge stared at the waif at the counter. Erect, brunette, too young to be aging, but not far from it. A young mom. Last night, Javier took Partridge to Rancho Viejo for dinner. He let her order a steak burrito the size of her head. He wasn't bad. She took a bite of the vile weed and thought, I hope I get another burrito before he goes away.

Fontana checked her watch and added the baking soda. Dry ingredients first, always first. Mother insisted. She's a banshee, but she can bake. Fontana stalked a foot to the fridge to grab the Barefoot Sauvignon. She poured a glass and swished.

"Done, Mom." Partridge showcased her clean plate. A distraction from her full chipmunk cheeks. Fontana faced her child and inspected the plate. White. Not a porcelain white. Not pearly whites white. How does Busy have such pearly teeth? She smokes fucking Pall Malls. And they're pearls. They're mouth jewelry. I bet she used that lemon juice solvent I found on pinterest. She was probably listening to me talking to Cris. I think she listens more than she wants us to think. Busy's so goddamn special. So what! she's best friends with her mother and she is like a lesbian with Valentina. Just because she knows the German in that Red Balloons song doesn't mean a thing. I'm making carrot cake. And food changes the world. It's the quickest way to a man's heart.

6:04pm

While watching Watchmen I burst into tears during Dan Dreiberg's dream sequence when he and Laurie are kissing and the atomic blast hits. The tears precisely started when they incinerated and all you could see were their skeletons, still in embrace.

This is what I believe and am nearly convinced of: there is no "one" for me. There is no Other for me. I will walk the streets and sit in rooms and lay in bed alone, save for pets here and there. I can't imagine a person that would want me as their one; such a person is unimaginable. Beyond imagination. Well, mine. I'm a load. I'm a lot to take in and deal with. I'm a lot to handle. And who would take that on?

I would love to have someone to be incinerated with. Sounds hilarious and morbid, but there it is. I would love to have that person that shares mutual treasuring and cherishing. Not in a sappy golden retriever way; in a the-apocalypse-is-nigh-but-I'm-okay-because-there's-you-and-me type way. I just can't feature it. I may have success and a house and a vehicle, but I don't believe I will have that love. I have felt this way since my adolescence hit, I believe. When I was of elementary age, I was sure that I would. Something like my parents, only tailor-suited to me. But I'm so unlucky and loserish and ignored in love, that I don't see it changing. I'm trying to get myself to be okay with it. And I thought I was. But more and more I feel that I need someone to hold me. I need to be kissed. I need someone to be my partner in crime and non-crime. If you are, and whoever you are, I miss you.

I'm feeling more and more like the spinster aunt, the Unclaimed Treasure as Aunt Florence would say. As she was. I will probably be. I have to get to be okay with that.

1:20pm

Si je devais commettre, je dirais qu'ils étaient vents, pas des rêves.

•  Went to AB's house and told her everything on my mind and my views, which of course she walked away from/denied/played martyr. Her house was like a duplex attached to another, to another. I spoke to AniMarie and she used the word "perpetually". She's four.
• I remember trying to cry and feel bad about breaking up with her, but really I wasn't. I felt no loss.
• Her brother RB agreed to drive me home, but Esther, Sycho Sid and a couple others refused not to come with. Where they came from, I don't know. At first I told them, too bad, you ain't comin mafaka. Then I felt guilty and they all got into the car. We drove around the huge parking lot trying to see someone's license plate, but I can't remember whose.

4:15PM

UNE IDEE: Young woman inventing relationship with wrasslin star to get herself through the days.

• Song: Montezuma//FLEET FOXES
• Laying outside, him telling her she's got to end it, her acknowledging. Kissing the end.
• Regretting it.

4:05pm

Dancing on My Own//ROBYN

Judy is dressed in a very pretty jupe today! That's a nice change. And we had a political conversation that didn't involve TNT.

Poor Lucy has four feet of water in her basement. The Great DuPage Flood is still wreaking havoc. The village of Lumbergh is in a state of emergency. But of course, the Lumbergh P.L. is still open. Our director brought us some cheesy cake with "Thanks!" written in bright yellow frosting across the top. Didn't the French Revolution have their flames fanned by a line about cake? 

Lynne is mad that I do not want any part of the cake. She's pretending that I'm just a willful young rascal about it. Oh well. I'm not taking part in the insult. (I did have a few bites to see if it was good, and it wasn't bad, but it's still evil.) Will continue to understand what's at stake for her in trying to guilt me.

Chuck again told me what a great time he had with me at Dani's party last Friday. Oh boy. I am very pleased to have a new friend that is also an old friend. And I would love to hang out and shoot the shit with him. But I have reservations. I hope this isn't a romantic thing. I can't. So I'm not sure where to go. Must ask Julie.

I believe Valentina is pissed at me about Judy--that I was hugging her/having a good time with her. Maybe not. At any rate, if so she'll let me know.

France & U.K. are telling the U.N. that Syria has used chemical weapons twice since December. West, TX is in a chemical burn, Boston is still reeling, the mail is poisonous, the Midwest is half underwater, half snowed in. What is happening. You may ask yourself, Well, how did I get here? My answer is, Same as it ever was.

Meanwhile, I'm maintaining radio silence as far as the dept is concerned, and fantasizing about Tex non-stop. It's a lot of fun and I'm staying out of trouble... So far.

9:51am

Stayed up editing The Yard Birds (again) until 12:38ish this morning. This was my great story from college. I had to cut out three thousand words so I could submit it to Sixfold. It was invigorating. Those two hours really flew by. And I slept beautifully.

More importantly, I made a few discoveries. First, I'm much better than I was then. And I was good then. Publishable good. "Cox Knowledge Good". Middle fingers all around. This leads me to believe I'm quite good now. Hammering out that Fontana story and that Esther story would be an interesting experiment to that end. Let's see how good I've become.

Chuck told me my writing is different, more polished. I can see that that is also true. I'm darker. Briefer. Yes, better. How good on the continuum of artists? Who cares. I don't suck. All these months of knocking myself down have been exposed for what they truly are. A smokescreen of negative self-talk, posing as critical thinking and humility. Well. I have a lot to offer. So that negative stuff is going down the drain. Being sucked and swallowed as we speak. I can't do a thing to save them.

Hmm...

Big game huntin.

7:03pm

It's the day of the Patriot Day Bombing. I've been on the news sites since it was five minutes old. What is gnawing at me is that no one at work seems to be that concerned or interested. It's not mentioned or cried or worried over. It's like it didn't happen.

I feel very affected. I feel upset. I feel the pendulum, chugging in its circuitry.

With that in mind, a quick primer on Patriot's Day: It commemorates the opening battles of the American Revolutionary War, the battles of Lexington and Concord, both held on April 19, 1775. The holiday has become best known for the marathon and is in fact also referred to as "Marathon Monday." (Patriot's Day, we should note, should not be confused with Patriot Day, established on September 11 to mark the World Trade Center attacks.)               - slate.com

Correction: My boss just said, "Yeah, get ready. The sleeper cells are being activated."

This laziness rubs me the wrong way. It is unclear at this moment who is responsible for the attack. My prediction is some domestic group.

[Update, 7:49 p.m. ET] Doctors are "pulling ball bearings out of people in the emergency room," suggesting that the bombs were designed to propel shrapnel, a terrorism expert briefed on the investigation told CNN's Deborah Feyerick.    -CNN.com

 People are speculating the bombs are homemade.

6:52pm

Methinks tonight there could be a scuffle. Beware the ides... of April. A month worse than those of March.

6:02pm

I believe that Lynne is holding her son hostage by financially binding him to home and the local junior college. JuCo is not bad, don't get me wrong. And this particular JuCo is not bad at all. One of the best. But to stay at her house... for another couple years... poor Jareth (her son).

all right all right. 1:05am

Whiskers & bare shoulders.

Skeletor, or how I should still already be asleep. But it's good I'm not

• Sifting/England/antiques
• Dick Van Dyke/Partridge/Mommy Dearest
• Boggle
• Jordy/assorted callers
• the amputated hand
• Cory Carter (some name like that) (periph)
• Rohypnol
• neighbor wars
• Edie/Me
• THERE'S PISS...
• obsession with time/constantly counting out time
• Alice in Wonderland fears
• white rabbit overheard
• Constant agreement and no listening

12:59am (aka I SHOULD BE ASLEEP GODDAMIT.)

The Manic Ocelot, and other notes:

• The whole creepy ass neighbor/Partridge problem--karma? Tragedy? (I love the word tragedian.) Cruelty? Too much? We shall see.
• "Libraries still matter."
• "THERE'S PISS IN THE HALL OF VERSAILLES!"

8:58pm

Heartbeats//THE KNIFE
Moonlight Mile//ROLLING STONES
Mercy Street//PETER GABRIEL
Lover, You Should've Come Over//JEFF BUCKLEY
Bloody Well Right//SUPERTRAMP

• The beach rendezvous
• Rain
• On the road/sleeping in backseat
• Karaoke
• CMP menage
• Don't Stop (Color on the Walls)//FOSTER THE PEOPLE
• Opposite sex Raw OR, significant other Raw
• SMHBK shoot fight
• pilled out?
• locker room empty?
• Walk out on own power.

Undignified/Due/Legitimacy/Orphanage/The Manic Ocelot

• Ocelot - A symbol of regeneration. When an ocelot appears in a dream or meditation, it is there to teach you the benefits of regeneration of spirit through solitude and quiet meditation. As a totem or power animal, the ocelot acts as a connection between the physical and spiritual realms.
• Sighing to the point of orgasm (Jordy)

3:55pm

It's just a shout away, it's just a shout away, O.

This whole Chuck thing. He may? have some modicum of attraction toward me. Plus, there's that college connection. I fucking have twisty issues with my college. It's one of my things I ignore or avoid. Have guilt and embarrassment about. Anywho. He's definitely spurred me to write/approach writing more so than I have on my own. I have a poem in the hopper and another good idea for a story. For stories, all I have are notes and good ideas. Blah.

Part of my problem is that my lack of writing provides a huge feast for my self-criticism to gorge on. The scared is scared and so forth.

11:50pm

I believe my dream machine has acute and chronic virii.

I believe I need to get to writing.

ESTHER KRYLON: 

• Stumbles upon younger co-workers tumblr account
• Becomes addicted
• The Kills Hook & Line
• The Ramones Pinhead
• Buffy the Vampire Slayer gifsets
•  mindofataurus inspoz
• POC
• The Clash
• cupcakes/sweetz/nutella obseshes
• classic film
• Gil Elvgren
• atheism
• Neil Degrasse-Tyson
• Hitchslaps(?)
•  erotic photography
• Dita Von Teese
• Does not look at young co-workers own tumblr account, just the stream
• Masturbation
• Crying jags with lovethyfatness/woman of size appreciation
• iPad use
• asks Y.C-W. what tumblr is?
• Makes copy of all tumblrs Y.C-W. follows and creates own to follow them independently
• kind soul, not wanting to intrude on Y's tumblr
•  grocery bag girl/boy
• Christine Feehan pbks
• Fried Green Tomatoes-esque(?) 
• if so, Towanda moment..
• Confederate soldier fantasy love
• vs. Judy?

11:32pm

THE SWAIN'S INVITATION


The barn is warm, come inside, lie down,
sleep. Here, no sleep ever fails

in jumping, tears it’s dug or anything
else tender on the fencing’s barbed wire

and, losing all the grace that true
jumping is made of, leaves you, flushed

to start all over again counting.
If later on in the night one sheep, over

another, appeals, stirs in you, somewhere,
something, be easy, no gate will fall

closed, forbid you trespass; what you want-
why shouldn’t you, why can’t you? Take it:

the easy-to-grip flank that has always
worn your mark on it; for pillow,

the woolly side, still trembling,
after; the broad tongue, meat-pink,

for washing a thing back toward clean,
that place where, at last,

there’s no trouble in sleeping, or
dreaming, or in remembering, by dawn,

only how tired you were, how warm the barn.

--Carl Phillips, Cortége

8:25pm

• Me & Tex in The Dinner
• Me & Tex in France
• Me & Tex in hotel rooms
• "Wrong number routine"
• Me & Tex slow dancing
• "Here Comes the Flood"
• "Let That Be Enough" (cornball saplove)

EATEN:

• Egg sandwich
• two eggs
• Slice of provologne cheese
• two slices italian bread
• Slice of provologne cheese
• reese's mini cup
• half of chicken pesto sandwich
• cup of coffee
• water

9:30am

We're praying for Grandma to die. It's what she wants. It would ease her suffering. We owe her this kindness.

I feel like I'm under glass. The glass of a major league aquarium. Shedd size. A tank? And where I should be is just over the glass, in the water. My head is still pounding and pressured, but I can't get over there. I have no desire to.

(I need to quit sitting on my ass. I need to lose ten pounds. I need to exert this level of control.)

9:14am

MENTAL NOTE:  Include toothbrush rant from "Edie" in Fontana story.