the habit of being

“I’m just interested in finding out what the hell goes. I mean do you have to be a goddam bohemian type, or -dead-, for Chrissake, to be a -real poet-? What do you want–some bastard with wavy hair?” (f+z)

what my problem is is that i can’t figure out whether I’m the wavy haired bastard or the one looking for one. maybe both. probably both. though not a real poet, nowhere near. maybe in a few years, though. maybe. maybe everything will change. you never really know. I could be anything, she used to tell me, a scientist or an astronaut or the president of the united states. could I be a poet then? is a poet -something-? something i could be(come)

thinking about her in that strappy ballerina thing makes me feel so repulsive. she seems very pure to me somehow. she’ll always be the same really. beautiful. ballerina clothes and beautiful are enough to kill anyone’s self-esteem, really. i couldn’t wear such a thing, nope. i don’t want her to be beautiful and not me. I don’t want to think about it. I don’t want to see it flaunted at me in my own house. oh no

carnivals and candy and midnight concerts
the rocky horror picture show
smutty movies and pot brownies
and things gone by like lightning
charms blow pops
music notes on crumpled paper
big pink hairbows with red hearts on them
et cetera

“Katharine I adore you. You my dear make me hate myself. This is one of those high jennifer compliments. Youre not allowed to cry over imaginary problems. Cause youre heavenly.
The shoes are just pink. “

I love it, getting there. How it spreads in circles through me and I’m so amazed at the feeling. it’s different than any other feeling could ever be. Almost pleasure almost pain. is this ecstasy? I don’t think so. I think I’d know ecstasy when I got there. but soon enough I can feel it even in my feet and on my face and in every corner of my body. but the twitching starts afterwards and i no longer feel in control so i just start over again. I can’t hold on to it. I have to let go

It seems so much more pleasurable in hindsight. so much better sitting in a classroom somewhere. i see my body overcome by some force unseen really and such a thing seems impossible then. so it must be the most wonderful thing in the world. that feeling I cannot really remember when it’s over. i cannot even imagine. I just know it’s possible and i can’t get there at the time. because I’m locked up. what i can’t have must be the most wonderful

I could start with a week and work up. to forever. there are other things i could do. I could read I could draw I could WRITE. I could write for real. write poems write stories. become enlightened move to vienna be a turndown lady be a country singer be a porn star be a lover be not a virgin be not a computer girl i could become real. I need to get out of here. start at a week and work up. keep thinking that way

—– Original Message —–

From: Katharine
To: sisyphus@phreebyrd.com
Sent: Wednesday, March 31, 1999 8:40 PM

>please tell me things. I need to be told things.
so many many things

—– Original Message —–

From: velvet ragdoll
To: Katharine
Sent: Saturday, April 10, 1999 3:25 AM

Subject: tell me things.

>
>find face. integrate image.
>
>you’re trying to paint an intimate portrait of yourself …
>
>it’s difficult because you’re always changing
>
>and you can’t paint fast enough …
>
>sis
>

—– Original Message —–

From: Katharine
To: velvet ragdoll
Sent: Saturday, April 10, 1999 8:17 AM

Subject: Re: tell me things.

>how do you know?
>
>
>where do I get more time or more paint?
>

v—– Original Message —–

From: velvet ragdoll
To: Katharine
Sent: Saturday, April 10, 1999 10:42 AM

Subject: face paint

>
>you slow down …
>
>the paint is inside you …
>
>it is silver.
>
>sis
>

—– Original Message —–

From: Katharine
To: velvet ragdoll
Sent: Saturday, April 10, 1999 11:40 AM

Subject: Re: face paint

>why silver?
>

—– Original Message —–

From: velvet ragdoll
To: Katharine
Sent: Saturday, April 10, 1999 11:46 AM

Subject: Re: face paint

>
>why not?
>
>:)
>

—– Original Message —–

From: Katharine
To: velvet ragdoll
Sent: Saturday, April 10, 1999 11:48 AM

Subject: Re: face paint

>
>when I was little I had a stuffed unicorn with a silver horn
>it was very scary at night
>I put it outside my door
>

—– Original Message —–

From: velvet ragdoll
To: Katharine
Sent: Saturday, April 10, 1999 2:04 PM

Subject: Re: face paint

>
>did it protect you?
>

—– Original Message —–

From: Katharine
To: velvet ragdoll
Sent: Saturday, April 10, 1999 2:52 PM

Subject: Re: face paint

>no it just scared me
>I had regular horses for protection
>old pal and blue pal
>
>

—– Original Message —–

From: velvet ragdoll
To: Katharine
Sent: Saturday, April 10, 1999 4:10 PM

Subject: Re: face paint

>stick with the horses then!
>
>;)
>

—– Original Message —–

From: Katharine
To: velvet ragdoll
Sent: Saturday, April 10, 1999 7:49 PM

Subject: Re: face paint

>I still have them both.
>
>everyone thinks they are lambs though.
>
>silly people.
>
>
>

The Girl, having the bluest of blue eyes and hair as dark as the lungs of a life-long smoker, was quite often described as an ‘exotic beauty’. Her face was quite angular, as were her hips and most of the rest of her, and on many occations (upon staring at herself in the looking glass for much too long a time) she found herself wishing she were a ‘domestic face-in-the-crowd’. On this particular day, however, she felt like Aphrodite Incarnate and smiled at the men passing by with the come-hither look of an underworked prostitute.

I saw her on my way to work that morning. She looked no older than thirteen and from God only knows where. I wondered when she’d last eaten.

Beautiful? I suppose, but so strange looking.. like no one I’d seen before. (That hair!

No one should be allowed hair like that - so straight and so dark - so black it seems blue or purple in certain light. It’s unnatural yet so real.. CERTAINLY wasted on that little waif!

What I wouldn’t do for such hair. Surely Henry would die. He would just DIE if I walked in sporting such raven-like locks. Henry would die and a symphony would play in the background. People would toss flowers and sigh involuntarily. Quite the entrance it would be.)

One man did mistake her for a sex worker. She simply grinned and walked away from him. (Silly fellow.)

{{ From the Easter bunny, I got goldfish crackers and little brown hair clips and altoids and mascara, among other things.

I need to change my clock for Daylight Savings Time. I smell like cucumber body wash and I need to cut my fingernails. My ceiling fan is on and both windows are open. It’s quite comfortable in here. Franny just jumped off the top of my monitor. I haven’t eaten a single Cadbury cream egg this year. (and so things are at present) The Plan is still uncertain. I need a unicorn. }}

please, you, make a blanket of a million blue-brown moths and let it cover me for centuries until endness finally gets here and things quit going in circles

please, you, wrap me up and take me along

{{ (suddenly I’m being hugged by teachers and congratulated frequently and one guy told one other guy that I am strange) lately I’m so calm.. Content maybe.. it’s different . I feel like I’ll be able to really do something soon, though not soon enough. I’m temperarily disconnected only externally. I’m sleeping with a huge stuffed duck. (Beats an inflatable man). fuck you and your damn FEELINGS, she yelled at me. she really went down on me. no one’d spoken to me that harshly in my entire life. }}

My most honored and significant! What terrible things you say while you boil!

Red toes and a foul foul mouth do not the best dinner make.

Melly is coming! would you HURRY?!

go under- things will speed up. go under go under go under damn you.