stingrays and spiked worms...

...were creatures i dreamed about the other night. swam together in some indistinguishable sea. the stingrays floated like jumbo jet-liners atop the sea's surface. i could see blood swirling through their tranlucent wings, paper-thin enough for the sunlight to seep through them. now the spiked worms were invisible to the human eye. head and tail coiled together like an ouroboros, these worms settled over your wrists like bracelets, only for steel spikes to explode out of their bodies and directly inward into your flesh. difficult to wake up from this one.

there's a boy

and he uses words like "enamored," "suitor," "jouissance." he regularly quotes keats, wants his remains to be blast into outer space when he dies, and comes over with dog treats for lola. we giggled our way through a (bloody) stage-version of titus andronicus, especially the human pot pie scene. on friday we're going camping...in his backyard. pitching a tent, reading with a flashlight.

o, doth he make me woozy?
aye.

down the rabbit-hole

can you tell that i'm just a wee bit obsessed with time these days? past present future present past futurepastpast pre-sent futuresenturentsapast...well, i certainly am, thanks to this grad. seminar i'm taking this semester on the time of theory. it's been a whirlwind. i'll never look at time in the same way again, but as an heirloom of a handkerchief that can be crumpled, unfolded, re-crumpled, re-unfolded, so that a multiplicity of histories can touch in a simulataneous moment that is always moving, never fixed. what a sham time is! yet what a sham it is that we let it still dictate our lives! there's even no escape in knowing...

forget spiders

i'd like to believe, instead, that the living ghosts of your past crawl through your mouth while asleep and overtake you in sleep, in dream, in waking consciousness. an incubus of sorts that allows you to hold some creative freedom in interpreting the ghosts' words.

tidal waves

i had a dream last night that i half-drowned. i was aboard this rickety, wooden ship (i think somewhere around newfoundland) when tidal waves lurched forward out of the sky with their clenched, white fists ready to mince me to bits. i remember the only refuge from these waves was underwater, where everything was so silent and still. the best part? i could breathe underwater for up to 6 hours. i'm still convinced that i see glimpses of my "past" life in my dreams. perhaps i was a sailor in the 16th century. or was i simply sea anenome? i swoon over the idea that we're all indiscernable, even ghostly fragments of the past, present, future. makes me think about which pieces of me will live on even if there is nobody left to remember.

hello world...

...meet boy. look like one at least. decided to chop off hair (again) on a whim. now left with mullety-wig that got shred to bits in a lawnmower. perhaps i can play the gender-confused card. if i slick my hair back, i could pull a mean david bowie impression, i bet.

anyway, attended a recommended lecture today by lee edelman (who basically resists any notion of reproductive futurism and the Child as the privileged locus from which such discourse is reproduced/reiterated) and ended up watching gay porn. he had a point, a message behind it. but it was strangely strangely strange to simply spectate upon gay porn like a detached "academic"...i mean, multiple men were masturbating into a "collective" pitcher literally collecting massive amounts of ejaculation, and this guy was saying how the director was letting the "lips of [their] assholes" speak. hum. this is why i sometimes have to rethink what i'm doing, why i'm here. i need to get writing again..creatively. not too happy with where i am lately. feels forced. must revert to the natural - if there ever was such a thing.

goodnight world.

the death drive made real

my other is always an english professor who's completely out-of-reach. he's most likely a) married/committed, b) has kids, c) is gay, d) or is some combination of the aforementioned points. no fair, i say. why is it so impossibly difficult to find someone with the least bit of intelligence and wit to boot? is it that my "least" is a standard set too impossibly high?