Street way one

I forget sometimes how much is accomplished with so little.
The word for this, getting a lot across with only a little exertion: grace.
Strange, then, that I feel like: a bull in a china shop, a drunken Labrador, unhinged scissors.

I can give permission, participate, and make by just not saying no.
I can make null just by thinking it.

Friday night Paps cut my hair and read my fortune.
Saturday I drank coconut juice and ate fig newtons. Bobo and I went shopping.
Today I made a dance movie with the Regular Motion crew. The light in our stairwell is broken, so I smoked a cigarette by candlelight. I'm listening to the new Portishead record and drinking cherry bark tea. I'm going to read Eileen Myles' Cool for You until I fall asleep.

Tomorrow I'm cutting toxins out of my life for a week. Work on my grace.

I'm thinking right now about two things:
-- that events flow inexorably in one direction only
-- among these events are things like gasoline, money, cocaine, love, fever and absence.

I miss you very much, Chuck.

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