I wonder if you are the clockmaker: 24 October 2011
I need this journal. I need my own words breathless and sparked and nonsensical and hurtful and published and worrisome and anxious and the death urges. My anemic emotional handwriting that may not be my own, alone. No right, no…
Sitting on the patio alone: 28 de enero de 2015
Sitting on the patio alone in the shade with a lukewarm coffee. Today is sunny but there’s a luxurious cool breeze rustling the hair on my arms and whisking away any negative thoughts that flicker into being. Such as the…
North American anxiety: 08 de enero de 2015
Yesterday I wrote Sawyer a long email about my life right now, and how I don’t want to go back to the states because anxiety and unsureness and uncomfortability (I know it’s not a word but it is now) are…
I feel so magic: 13 de diciembre de 2014
I feel so new, I feel so magic, so feather-like floaty hair and pixelated pinpointed pulseras, colours in every texture. Ink on skin, plastic camera whimsical vibrations, a ring on every finger, long nails, eating a bulbous, shiny apple, reds…
Inhaling roughly that black cancer air: 29 de abril de 2014
Inhaling roughly that black cancer air, the world twitching and swirly for a few seconds after. Insatiable need for brain changes that never come, for the feeling of risk and chance and what could occur when the opportunities are taken,…