n. infantile pattern of suckle-swallow movement in which the tongue is placed between incisor teeth or between alveolar ridges during initial stage of swallowing (if persistent can lead to various dental abnormalities) v. [content removed due to Bush campaign to clean up the internet] n. act of nyah-nyah v. pursuing with relentless abandon the need to masticate and thrust the world into every bodily incarnation in order to transform it, via the act of salivation, into nutritive agency

Tuesday, March 25, 2008

I dreamt last night that I was flying on a Green Tortoise airplane that had mattresses spread out instead of chairs. I was lying on one of these mattresses, wrapped in a blanket, when woman in a purple dress walked by me a few times and then sat down nearby, saying, "I hope you don't mind, but it's the color of your eyes..."

"What about the color?" I asked, and she told me that their color was made when I first caught sight of Juno. And then she said, "Well, I'm a prognosticator. You won't like this. But you are bound to lose sight in one or both of your eyes." I was startled and rolled over on the mattress, but somehow I could still see her. Suddenly, just as she was leaving for another mattress, her eyes narrowed, her head tilted slightly to the side, and she added, almost wonderingly: "Either that, or it's already happened."


It's odd still being here. In Chicago. In an apartment that doesn't feel like home. I feel completely done, and not just a little bit miserable and fat and lonely. Surely I need more exercise, but it's hard to get myself to do more than sit-ups on the living-room floor while daydreaming about the greenspaces elsewhere in the world. I don't know why, but this feeling of having horribly failed somehow has taken up residence, and only reading or talking to nm seems to make it feel better. Man, I'm a sad sac... maybe I just need spring like the rest of this city?
Comments:Post a Comment