What's goose

Hey it's my first time blogging from my iPhone. Pretty cool! Look at that autocorrect just going apes hit! I'm sitting in front of my job on Dryades St in New Orleans Louisiana, it's about 9:56 pm, I'm drinking a strawberry beer and am about to light up a light blue American Spirit cigarette. I unbuttoned the top button of my first (of 3) denim Cherokee brand skirts, on account of being bloated, on account of having my menses. The sounds of crickets and other southern summerbugs rubbing theirs thighs on winds and wings together about me. I made $54 in tips tonight at my job which is easily 2.5 times the amount of tips I normally make. On account of a group of parent-like people having a really truly great time. They applauded, blew kisses as they left. I was a little jealous, they were out in the backyard eating pAninis and bruschetta and other Italian delicacies, and hey were smiling and laughing and, as one of them put it, having such a blast. There was even a giant fan blowing over them.

I'm being destroyed by mosquitoes, too, and the insides of my ears hurt because I sleep with plugs wedged in there on account of my boyfriend who snores and I who can't sleep with rhythmic body sounds about me. But that's all alright. It's called love, and I've for the moment a livingroom, and a couch in it that I can smother into. I just took a sip of beer and it went down as they say, the wrong pipe. I don't care, the displeasure is nearly gone now. Now just back to the squitoes, smoke in my eye.

It's a classic New Orleans summer night, and I say y'all at least twice a day because it rolls out of a summer mouth! It's all fine by me. 

A man just rode slowly by on his bicycle, wanted to sell me a nice push-button umbrella for $3, he is trying to get him some chicken. I do want a nice push-button umbrella; it hasnt rained on me in 3 days which is highly unusual for a typical summer in the sub-tropics. But I have no way of carrying one. I do wish I had given him the $3, though. And I don't have an umbrella when I need one, of course.

Yes, it's shaping up to be quite the typical late July night in the southern USA.

MARTY MEMBLEM

to be taught
righteous, riotous,
your hand in my sand
my billowing, running sand.
she and her sad of course
to be taut

  your running off on me
your running off onto me.
your run off onto
  you're running, about to.
I have a point
to point to the purposeful.
you're a rock, you're a cane
you're a beet
red pulse-baby, my made hands.
how do you destroy months
how do you tangiblize months
how do you blend
them, yours, mine
how do you make a new calendar from them,
how do you tick days
click lick lick lick swish,
 flourish


I'm smoking herbs and pot rolled up into a joint, I'm in my room
on hickory st in new orleans, there is a candle, a scene.
globebook,
thermos,
gravitas.
mardi m emblem
beautiful lighting
peach curtains in the breeze
songs to get high to
songs to cry or wail to
to drive to
my table.
so another words,
succulent, rememberful
  = sentimental
riesling with berries, bugs
collie in frog position
dangling from the fan
coon tail, lavender crocheted jellyfish (nickey)
pink & brown cabin rugs

waits

if for nothing but the
yours and yours
  truly

<<<<<<<<<<<--------->!@3

I moved my goodnight

I moved my bed so it's parallel to the wall, between the two windows, still. I thought I would go to sleep with the red notebook, the one without lines. I used to write in it round my birthday last may when I lived at kari's club, and I was drawing pictures of flowers dying every day, and I was really stoned all of the time & I'd go to bed alone because I wasn't allowed guests. I would read kafka's blue notebooks until I got too bored or distracted or tired and then I would write a little something in the book and I would fall asleep. An example:

   19 May, bed

      You've a lot of work to do. Read    deal   finish/throw away  your library         move to New Orleans

I started again, writing in the red notebook, and it produces similarly, only I am not the devastated one I was in may. I am still sad to report that may of 2013 was historically one of the worst months in my recent years. it remains cloudy and dismal in my memory, and it has cracked something of my view of idaho or of impending summer or of love or hopefulness or something of those natures. I am still sad that I can't laugh at that. I had the sweet depressant in my skeleton. so many questions. I had begun to see luke and he knew me enough, made me come in the park, screams echoing and I snuck him in kari's club afterward but then in the morning I wanted him so gone. I was like that guy, we all know. I felt like the truest broken thing. it was late may by then. I was a dead finish. r

I made some apologies to them. I was sorry that I wasn't going to fall in love anymore. I was sorry that a whole, flat bland vacuum of the country was off limits to my wandering brain heart fingers breath. my best friend moved away, I moved away. I haven't smoked a real american cigarette in days, just the herbs of the world, it seems better for your health and for your pocketbook and for your roommates and for the smell of the world, right. I like to smoke while I cook, like while cooking things like chicken noodle soup for my boyfriend because I want to reach out to him, and he is sick, and I want to prove that I am good & careful & capable. there is science in the chicken soup thing, and I believe usually what I hear right away as the truth. why lie?

which reminds me I wish I had a cigarette paper. I would roll one of these good smokes. I have these little butts, but I, too, am ill. I'm sorry. I shouldn't be smoking, I almost almost even considered quitting smoking for someone this spring. may2013 killed notions of that, so I must have smoked 100,000 smokes over the last 6 months.

I liked smoking and cooking. I spent four hours in the kitchen, four hours at least maybe more. we have a nice big kitchen, and a table ben secured from a house where he was working, it came from someone who overdosed, he told us. it in the sorry for him, lucky for us voice. it's nice to sit at a table. I watched project runway and I ate sweet potatoes and rice from louisiana, and arugula from louisiana. I asked ben & colette to get me some rosemary from the store, and kayla looked at the show with me and we all tried my smoking blend. dan came in and he tried the soup and he told me not to overdo it with the parsley. we don't like to fight but somehow we are fighters.

I'm listening to rumours, which I'm waiting to remind me. ever listen to music expecting it to shock you back into something? after justin left boise I listened to all of the music he sent to me. he sent me music over the internet, and he sent me flowers once, which he probably purchased over the internet. we had an internet relationship & so I listened to rumours on the internet. it wasn't ruined for me, I keep waiting for that. I don't feel anything about it either way, the sting is gone. somehow that's a little disappointing to me, like it felt like so much back then and now it's almost as though nothing ever happened. like it should remain important? sometimes I'm such a dreamer.

I haven't been drinking or doing drugs or anything. I am trying to drink tea & lemon & ginger from louisiana. I have never lived in a place where I could eat ginger grown from my earth here. it feels lucky, but also like an of course kind of lucky.

I think the cigarette paper is the toughness I appreciate. I really shouldn't be smoking, but I feel justified. I still wonder. I met someone in florida named justice and I told him about things a little. I'm glad I love the south, and even though it bums me a little to feel so little, I'm glad to not feel the pull sting anymore.  goodnight

give it a week

I'm actually wearing wool. I'm actually final, here. I am surrounded by the latenight drilling of the roads about. I was sad and awander, I fell into step. I felt time dally around. I make the most of it, child's bed. Make me. 

We picked up a hitchhiker, we were all going to New Orleans. Danny came back to the car and said, He's pretty dumb, but he's harmless. He introduced himself as Christopher, then interrupted himself to say in drunk drawl, But erryone calls me MISS'IPPI! Y'all mind if I DRINK? and I'm sprayed gently with beer. AW NO, this un's sprung a leak! So he chugs. He's made up a song he doesn't mind singing over and over. The chorus says, simply, and straightforwardly: Ga pocket fulla LINT. Pocket fulla LINT. Pocket fulla LINT. Danny says, Aw man, yeah I already heard this one. He puts his hand on my leg. I'm driving. Missippi ain't talking to me. He's not talking to anyone in particular. But I'm at an advantage because I've got the window down, and I'm smoking and drinking coffee. We're outside Mobile by now, Missippi HATES MOBILE, ALBAMA! MO-BILE ALBAMA CAN DIE, KNOW WHIME SAYIN?

Well, shore enough, he passed out for a spell. And we made it to New Orleans, Louisiana. Passed through & over Lake Ponchartrain and it began to rain a bit. We got rid of our traveler but he left in his wake a bottle of smartwater, empty save for the dip he'd been spitting. Bye bye.

I was worried three, four, five six weeks ago. Wondering, will I? I read aloud to him the poem I'd written, we were at the bar neither of us really likes but the one that's close, and always has an empty patio. At the picnic table. He was tired but I read it anyway. I was worried but I'm not worried anymore. I'm a weepless one, now.

why are you following me

I'm empty nest
but my body's gettin biiiiig
sooo float
I walk around new orleans in these hippie sandals Barb gave me the night we stayed in denver
and the pink hawaiian shirt I got last week, it's the only clothing thing I bought since leaving idaho
  17 days ago
I walked down the middle of the road
at twilight
saw three cats
to buy cigarettes
I would trade cigarettes for love
  with you
  with any of you
it's chocolate city, you know
           heeeeyyy, chocolate
I got ice cream
in lieu of screaming that
and I've got the bug
the hotbodied, bloaty bug
& I know,
  I know you're not
  really following me around
we aren't tether limbed
we're not elastic lipped
I'll shush me
but I haven't enough
      friends
         in this sultry, sultry wetnest
yet

get in the zone

on this first day I woke up like a new girl on a 366th day of the year, skylight above me roasting me, white thigh from out of the blanket, flannel sweating stuck at skin, breathing around, where am I? we got in too late to see abundance of gardens and trees and coloradoness. I just changed out of my clothes & into my better dress, the good dress from 2008, the always dress which is now the always dress of summer 2013. I woke up differently from me now. now I am coffeed and cooled and thinking of autozone. but I came out from the house and I am dreaming of my new house in new orleans, walking around it in my mind.

things we talk about

tunamelts
limbs
river
French
coffee
illness
plays
translation
college
white hair
regret
cinnamon tans
vocabulary
laundry
noise
New Orleans
cats
moving away
sex
brains
babies
shirts
periods
breakfast
sadness
money

in summer

88% humidity

surprise body! surprise
lately:
petrichor
wet everything
grease girl
favorite song
broodless
dancing till soaking
dancing with dumb rattail joey, sorry
hot joey sighting
dancing to hot sweat joey drumming
of course that hot joey was the drummer, smh
awkward date sighting, no thanks
hundreds of gallons of alcohol
pc upset
aggrofags
sorry, not
come to new orleans with us
puppybody
puppypuke, sorry
ida pizza, smh
all of the $$
happy birthday, I love you
no don't talk to me
other guy, wtf is your name again?
let's make out
no, nevermind
disdain girl
glad for rain
let's party till we die
summer mood
get that moon
get it

it's humid

it used to fuel, it is letting itself go, look at it
all shab, all grub
it's avoiding the mirror lately
it hasn't any pets anymore
everyone's in a flat great fucking mood
puddles are lying
reflections of trees
like our CITY OF TREES tattoos we're getting
it rained very early this morning
I want to know how to barometer
how to measure the letting-yourself-go
in length of body hair?
in width of copper chain stain on dirt neck?
in amount of bodyodor emanating?
in a caliper of fatroll?
I just googled the word WHATEVER
but I haven't checked the results
it's 70 degrees, 53% humidity in boise
it's 97 degrees, and only 47% humidity in new orleans
I know how to do this in the wet
so let's get it ONNNNN

who do i think i am

I did enough last night to justify

my never leaving the house

  oh... you're moving to new orleans?

  but I was planning

to go there, to never have to see you again

  and we could have gone together

  and you didn't have to give up on me

  and you could have given me a chance!

  because you're the one!

I'm the one,

  right

we were yelling in front of the bar,

  and we were crying

  bc I hear you so well

but I don't think you can with your dead ears.

do I get credited for the ruins of someone else's heart, now?

do I get to be the guy 

do I get to be the beloved, for a change?

  ha

I left & walked, and did some unsavory

  business in front of my old highschool. I was laughing, now

    and I rode my bike home

      and I did more bad things

        some regretables

          but I haven't any apologies

    I just keep

 trying

for some reason

 to not be

   the one, anymore

one nightstand

one object cannot flank another object
one beard is not the world's beard
a bed on the floor doesn't allow for a tall table
  but a wooden box on which
to set earlymorning unmentionables
  or to obscure little desire-machines
  don't check my motor
  can I check my pockets?
give me your square teeth
  should I say hi to you?
sure, do it
  no no, nevermind
    don't say anything.
a bandana person
  save your scent to share
    get your neckblanket on me
to guzzle
   you through a nose & open drink mouth
I am pretending to smoke a cigarette
in the alleyway, back to the sun
  bc I want to think abt being naked, if you can imagine
  and the tight holds
handles of bones
  a spotted concave chest
    a long torso
      a maybe ugly
    a darling as darling as darling
instead of wandering, breaking everything
  shattering itall
    sparkle cuts allovertheplace
who needs furniture? we ask
  new orleans is on my to do, you said
  a given name? what give you me?
I'm really glad, you said
  we met
stay sweet, I said
  stay sweet, we said, and did
    I'll bet
from our low cushions
  and nightstands

re liable

last night we went to our clubhouse,
nickey, chad, ida following the sunset path
through the sagebrush, past the aspen
and the pinkening donkeytail succulents
to our place between the two pines
on that awkward slope that sores legs
or jambs toes to sit on.
just in time for that first star.
we talked abt what new orleans is like
abt a fantasy mansionhouse
and our brilliant year-round gardens.
a man came up from the house below.
we met him the night before,
he told us we got his curiosity up
bc there lives a family of fox
and a coyote who chases the babies around.
he thought we might be them.
I think abt fox & coyotes a lot
I think how I'd like to join them.
last night he came & sat with us, this neighbor
he was glad to hear there were some liberal people living in the stepford houses
he told us that we were saved for this time,
that we were reserved for this moment
to carry the future. to teach, bc we have the structure
to teach the careless generations beneath us.
he told us about his world drums, slurring his speech,
ice jingling in his plastic cup
he invited us to his sweatlodge.
I was looking at the fullnight sky, by now
envisioning you, flipping your hair
miles & miles away
I was thinking of what I'd say to you had I been filterless
promises I'd make & keep
drives to take. getting you at me.
I am not a wish
  but I am a big future
and I committed to the notions of
  gratitude & accountability
     for my good fullfuture hands
I like the wild dog path we're taking
past the sucs, past the aspen
and I like the certainty that I'm contained, somewhere
there
in a promise to the selves I will undoubtedly keep

heartline

a man came into the coffeeshop wearing an old new orleans tigers hat
which I found a little serendipitous
he made me sell him $1 worth of bulk tea
I used the scale and a flimsy cellophane bag
and he said, Your heart line is so bright you could roast weenies on it
I asked him, What the fuck is a heart line
not in those words, exactly
and he said, Your joie de vivre
he told me, It comes out your eyes,
and your smile, especially
and oh, your rosy cheeks, too
and I was thinking, either I do have a carefree enjoyment of life,
or,
this guy is fucking dumb

I'm sorry. I guess I must really just be good at my job
or maybe
or maybe I'm just a shining lovebeacon
  pretending I'm not
I should have insisted that he give me his cap, for my new disguise


THIS GIRL IS ON FIIIIIIIIIRE