nervous blood

 blood feels nervous and so do my muscles

everything feels tense like someone is running an electrical current through my veins

like I'm being very gently tased

theres a superpower that's often used in media, in fables, in tales, stories: seeing into the future. I would like to see into the future, but just the way normal people see. Five year plans, desires, hopes. Sometimes I get a premonition, but it's of being old and poor, like when I see an elderly person struggling up the stairs in the subway. 

I was thinking of the word, "insatiable" today. Usually it's used to describe someone sex-crazed or obsessed with food, or action. But what about a static insatiability? Like no matter how much she sleeps she is never satisfied, she is insatiable. No matter how much she tries it is not enough, the void is insatiable. No matter what luck drops in her lap it is not good enough for her, she is insatiable. Yes she lives alone but the light is bad. Yes she has a good job, but she wants more money. more more more. insatiable 

Soft Launch of a Soft Landing

Josie is sobbing upstairs. Wailing and screaming in a way that, with the noise canceling headphones on, (but not playing anything) I can't quite tell when it's her sometimes or a fire engine going by. Poor kid, she reminds me of me, in the worst ways. Sleep away camp was supposed to end this weekend but her moms had to drive up yesterday to pick her up early- kicked out, for stealing. Twice. Right now is the reckoning, Both Ali and Rachel are talking to her about The Incident, and I don't think she's taking it well.

I'm in the apartment I was supposed to move into, on the garden level. I don't know how long it will last, and honestly, being down here, I don't think a year in here would be good for me. Its a studio, but there's not a real door- just barn doors, swinging with an inch of visibility into the room even when they're "closed". Which would be okay but for the fact that Ali also has her studio down here, and just breezes in and out when she pleases. Can a girl get A Room With A Door? How far we have fallen from A Room With A View. I suppose I have settled with A Room of One's Own.  One day I hope to have A Home With A View And A Door, Of My Own- A Clean Well Lighted Place. 

I'm ignoring texts again. I don't know why I do it, I just don't respond to some things. Even to people I love, or to things which are important. Or that I want to answer. It feels... pathological. 

I have to go to work soon. There's a student at work who farms at Brooklyn Grange, and she brings me vegetables. Today: a bundle of rosemary, three hot peppers, a basket of cherry tomatoes, and a tiny, perfect, garlic. I was singing to myself the other day about how shitty garlic in NYC is, how I've never lived somewhere (except maybe Iceland) where it was so hit or miss on whether you'd get a good or rotten clove. So, that little fresh garlic, secreted away in the cherry tomatoes, nearly makes me want to cry.