the habit of being

lately.

NEW PLAN When I am eighteen I will use the money Ginny left me when she died to move to Vienna. By day I will sell flowers on street corners. I will wear flowy skirts and enchant people. My hair will be so very long and I’ll talk in rhymes and smile at people I don’t know. My flowers will be the most beautiful because my perfect lover will plant them for me in a sincere meadow (which is much like a sincere pumpkin patch).
By night I’ll work as a turndown lady at the Vienna Marriott. (Putting mints on peoples pillows is the most wonderful thing in the world.) I’ll make everyone have vivid dreams about their favorite things and everyone will wake up happy and the world will be a better place because of me.
When I get home I’ll have someone to sleep with and I won’t be so cold all the time. In my free time I’ll write fairy tales and floating will always be allowed and reality will not be a factor.
Everything around me will be beautiful and my life will be like a pretty movie. It will all be art and love and sleeping and flying.
I’m not sure if you’ll be there or not, but I hope so.
If this doesn’t work I will be a Buddhist nun and become enlightened. I’ll sit under fig trees and be content.

FINALS The man who shot me with a stick stole my bed and the cow eggs I was supposed to be protecting. (I locked the door to the trailer though, I swear. I did everything.) His ransom note said something about a football game between Southeast Bulloch and Screven County. If you put graph paper under a heat lamp and held it up to a mirror you could see the face of the person who wrote it. He had a beard. My brother was secretly on his side until the end. He (the bad guy) shot my dad but my dad wasn’t really my dad.. the bad guy was. (She knew there’d be something about Joe.) He had a beard (already mentioned. oh well.) We were in the jungle when he shot me with the stick (stick as in falls off a tree).
(The police officer who lived down the road -we lived in our house but it was not in our neighborhood- was a skinny highschool kid with a bunch of zits. We had to keep returning to his house b/c the eggs and the bed were stolen on different occasions. The note was found when the bed was stolen)
asleep at 11– a relay in the music room. genius guy couldn’t spell my name on the sign-up sheet. (That’s twice he’s appeared. He was in the four-breast dream.) There was a huge toothbrush involved in the relay. I ran into my English teacher at the end.
Now there’s an equation about sulfuric acid and water and some other stuff that won’t balance no matter how hard I try and it annoys me.
(it was #6. now it’s gone. the rest of the exam was muy facil and I may just be a chemistry queen)
The thing about math tests is that I forget I’m taking them. Sit sit sit, glare, sit, daydream, sit sit, glance at paper, oops. Repeat for two hours or until asleep. Of the sixty problems, I worked about ten (that’s one sixth. see I do have math skills). It’s all right; I can hide until Monday. (I got a 98. psychic… I’m telling you)
Katharine does not want to worry. She does not have to. She can be content. She is not cold like you. Repeat until convinced.
“brush brush brush brush
comb comb comb comb
all girls who like to brush and comb
should have a pet like this at home”

inanimate
god I feel so inanimate
like notebook paper
waiting to be crumpled up and thrown away and forgotten
dammit.
I’m just stuck in that moment after a sigh.

NOW I’m eatdrinking Ramen soup and sitting in spilt Ramen soup and Ramen soup vapor is helping my blocked nasal passages and Ramen soup is soothing my burnt throat and Ramen soup is being shared with my pigeoncat and it’s all about Ramen soup baby.
Serendipity was my grandmother’s word. I don’t like how it’s become coolcute now.
We have so much in common, you know. martyr and parsley.
I’m going to become a TOOL expert, but first I will buy an album. (I already know that �nima is the album and �nema is the song. Yay.)
Open your heart to me.