012725
I am indefatigably a woman now. no ifs ands or buts about it.fragments from January morning pages
don't take your hand off the page [...] practice my penmanship, like a first grader [...] the pacific gleams blue and clear today [...] in some ways I think I have a backbone of steel, but in others I find myself tiring and irresolute [...] proximity, timing, and energy [...] is that boundaries or just being selfish? [...] instead of locating herself in her world and always bringing it back to that, E—— locates herself in other people's worlds and needs to feel that value constantly to function [...] im reading Roberto Bolaño, and though it's engaging in a kind of slutty, literary way, I'm unsure I'm deriving much benefit from it, apart from its historiographical value [...] at some points it reads kind of pornographic [...] is my life just a series of tasks?I was clearly bitter and somewhat antagonistic [...] I collapsed unto the sand, watching the purple waves melt into the purple clouds. I listened to gay club music (à la Jabril), then took the 5 back to the inner Richmond, racing away from the fledgling light of the sunset. it felt amazing.
the church still stands; the light at the end of the tunnel is foggy but I don't believe it's not there like I did yesterday [...] I have felt hope, I have felt happiness, I have touched it, and I will never look back. I will do anything in my power to move miles away from that feeling. when it returns on a whim, I am scared. is it because of cocaine? is it because of my period? is it something I ate? [...] the water was cold at night but summery and sunny during the day. Kaesha and I texted about astrology, and Zach made her an e-worm. hurray! a new contributor hasn't been added in the longest time.
it's nice to have a couch option in the office, for when you just need to take a break during the workday to watch IG reels for an hour...or two [...] it all feels so faraway in San Francisco, in Golden Gate Park that looks like the absolute picture of a lovely spring afternoon in the dead of winter, a snowflake light glitching on and off while we sit in the grass and paint mini watercolors. today I go to Fort Mason, a little bit against my will, because I committed to the FOG Fair and have a ticket to the gala. I will see my editor and my former professor, and perhaps I will even introduce them. we'll see who else I run into there. I have to dress up but i'm on my period and not very much looking forward to it—even though it is one of those things I was tickled to be invited to.
I am excited for C—— to move to Albuquerque and become a child of the west [...] I went to FOG Fair today, and elsewhere. we followed Laura, her erstwhile posse. ordered Mandalay eggplant, my favorite. [...] brain a little fizzled to stumps [...] I don't sit or rejoice in my wins...
I think I've had an epiphany, but maybe I've just been thinking about it wrong the entire time. birthdays aren't about looking forward to a new year — they're about reflecting and celebrating on old years. [...] the reason I'm feeling anxious isn't anything real, it's an abstract fear of the future [...] it all started with "27 years around the sun"—I've already completed 27 years, now I'm celebrating that [...] and did I feel 26 when I turned 26? of course not. I feel 26 now, now that I know what 26 feels like. it's recursive—like, I defined it for myself, so of course now it's very comfortable and I identify with it. [...] it's just a masked anxiety of the unknown, and a blank slate more generally, but its nothing to be scared of [...] I am not scared for the future. I will face it head on with curiosity and enthusiasm, and with confidence that it will sort itself out and I will learn the meaning of the age I am with time. [...] claudia says 27 is cool/hip, 26 is mickey mouse. emily says 26 is embarrassing. [...] I just didn't feel comfortable wearing someone else's pants. i thought they wouldn't fit. but it's my pants, and I didn't realize they grow to fit me as I grow to fit them. they're just maybe a different color now or something. (but it is true that I'll never have this color pants again.) but instead of focusing on the negative aspects of that radical change, I might as well focus on the positives—like the fact that now I have a new color pants to wear—the old ones were getting a little boring anyways...
claudia and I went to Japanese taiko drumming performance yesterday. it was great and sparked another epiphany [...] when I saw all the dancers and drummers, so coordinated and moving together, I thought of song. more specifically, I thought of song composition. I wasn't even high, but I imagined each little performer on stage as a track in an Ableton project, or perhaps each as a drum rack sample. and if you treated each sound as intentionally as they did, you would make a masterpiece—an evocative work of art. the interplay between solo and togetherness, partnered sound and individual performance, was incredible. each sound holding its own, contributing to the orchestra and the overall performance, but also stepping out and shining on its own every once in a while. the sound: on its own, doing its own rhythmic pattern; then, with an ensemble of two or three, doing a part, like the trombone section of a jazz band; then, together with everyone, hitting the same note (well, just one note) at the exact same time—the same instrument working in concert with all the other drums, instead of behaving randomly, not intentionally, not taking pride in its performance, in its inclusion in the scheme. if every sound was programmed and thought about so intentionally, with so much respect and care, a song would sound maybe half as beautiful as a taiko set.
011925
deep breaths while the cocaine half-lifes. donuts in the diner, eerie like twin peaks. neon '24 hour' sign remains off, but 'open' is on. Jon wolfs down a bagel sandwich in a suit jacket and dress shoes. the time on my Casio reads 2:43am. he talks about how staying up this late is unholy—bad for the cells. I laugh, and tell him he needs to move into the city.yesterday, the light shone in Golden Gate Park. everyone with nondescript faces walked unidirectionally into the sun. it was technically golden hour and they were heading west on JFK, but I was convinced we were reenacting the conveyor belt scene from Soul and everyone including me was on their way to Heaven. the guy who veered right into the rose garden threw me off, unearthing my obvious dissociation. he took his destiny into his own hands. . .
ive been sleeping 12 hours a night, with a 2 hour nap in the middle of the day. although I am not visibly sick, I feel fatigued and depressed. the most apparent sign? I cut my own bangs with only a dimly lit bathroom and a pair of blunt miniature scissors. I keep trying to convince everyone that I'm missing social engagements because of undiagnosed illness, but because I have no runny nose nor bloodshot eyes, everyone thinks I'm lying—or maybe that's just in my head.
something is wrong inside. the occasional giggle from an instagram reel is keeping pure misery at bay. I open the fridge (ingredients household) and feel learned helplessness, as if mama never taught me to make a meal. I groan and eat girl dinner, like cereal or a leftover burrito from El Faro. I dragged myself to Costco and returned with toilet paper and shiitake crisps. Jason pulled me around like a lost child.
I began calendaring 'REST DAY's. I make it a point to wake up and go outside. I'm giving myself 1 week of celebration and no limits after my brutal 10k and then it's back to the grind—the grind being Kayla Itsines' bikini body guide and protein shakes. Amy says 2025 is the year of being a jock. there is no battle I will not lose.
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