Bought Kathy Acker's Bodies of Work, not sure if I had read it before, senior year of college. About Burroughs. That's a nice pair of words, 'About Burroughs', isn't it? I have a terrific stomach ache, and so much work to do.
In a horrible mood today. All weekend. It might not be a mood, it might just be how I am from now on. Good Morning Buddha I am ready for your close-up. A suffering machine.
Realize now, nightclub, that no one cares how smart you are and especially no one cares how sensitive you are. No one wants to hear about your ideas, how you feel about how you're treated. How remarkably significant your lot in life is.What to do, then, with all these nerve endings bundled up like exposed wire?
I don't go up or down. I move laterally, like a sidewinder snake. What do you call them? Sandy, they live in the desert. Y'know, lots of things do live in the desert. We think of these places (on the world, in our hearts) as dead. Like a tundra. But it sustains life too, in the permafrost. So yeah I am like a desert animal I am like algae which grows in boiling water, frozen dirt. I'm not so special, I mean, we all are special. We all live, all the time together.
I am not resenting people for being nice to me. But what am I supposed to do? Top or Bottom or shiver like some wounded bird? You want to wash the crusted blood off of my feathers. Feed me from an eyedropper. To let you witness and capitalize on my pain or something. As if I had a private pain in the first place. Jeez.
I think I will feel better when my stomach does. I hope so. My friend asks "Do You Love Me Yet?" That is as beautiful a sentiment as I can imagine today. Fiction and power and optimism and sleight-of-hand. So I will make that my little slogan for the foreseeable future: revealing ourselves to be always ready for love.