May 2009
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live from ver-mont
i didn’t let myself break the spell much to-day (interruptive of enjoying the magicpresentmoments by archiving— writing) though i dipped into the emergency pursejournalet. let me just give decadent dispatch from burlington’s sheraton sitting on a giant fluffy cloud of a bed made of if-linen-was-valium letting my hair shirley curl air dry half-dressed for the show eating ripe...
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the white album
We tell ourselves stories to live…
We interpret what we see, select the most workable of the multiple choices. We live entirely, especially if we are writers, by the imposition of a narrative line upon disparate images, by the “ideas” with which we have learned to freeze the shifting phantasmagoria which is our actual experience.
-Joan Didion lyric essay tidbit
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ugh
itchy spiderbites— two on my left arm (from my bed no less)— and i hafta be typing away all day and try to ignore them. i already did the double worst thing i could do— scratched violently at the one on my wrist/keyhole tattoo, and i’d been so good yesterday! i was in front of a huge outdoor audience and sure, choked, then cut myself short, but i spent the rest of the day...
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