Ex-boyfriends and relatives have risen to the rooftop and won’t let go. Emily tries to calm them with grace and simplicity. To go anywhere. This morning the ocean disappeared. People got hurt getting their taste. And all the rest you mumble moonlight. The shades of quietude
You are the least fascinating version of yourself.
Was I going for a walk alone? Don’t take your pulse seriously. There is the name and the thing, cut out. We arrived in shreds. I’d like to be able to speak exhaustively, but I got feelings without names, displaced. My experiment on breathing will take its toll on your generation. I know the difference between seeing and memory, lost and found. Now Emily’s gone and I wish I lived a more judicious existence, like larvae. She didn’t wish to live at all. Too much thinking or not enough? Messiness. After a conversation with my mother on dissemination, I gave up tennis. Thunder on the mountain but the clouds give no rain to our hemisphere. Mom said people are divided into dark and light. Dad says become anything but a secretary. My sister and I will run away and blame them for everything—dropping off and bursting open.
Rose: my eyes feel like they're drying up in their sockets
me: That sounds unhealthy.
And it's why I keep eye drops on me forever.
Rose: I'm sure that's more enlightening than I can be
the zoe encounter, that is
me: Well you know... she IS going to London for spring break.
And writing on my Facebook wall 56 times a day.
Fucking grown up.
Rose: for real?
me: Yes.
Rose: sweet. maybe I'll see her there.
me: You going to London, Jetset?
Rose: One never knows . . . .
me: But funny thing: she tells me she had a "crazy" day, so I asked her what she did other than get chosen to go to London, and she said, verbatim: "dance (pointe ballet hip hop). cross country. babysitting. SCHOOL. social life."
She's Mini-Me.
Rose: have you seen her lately? she's gorgeous - yes, your moni me
mini me - sorry.
me: I know she's so beautiful it's incredible.
I tell her that frequently.
As she continues to post photos of her insane social life.
Did I tell you the Christmas Conflict?
Rose: That's important and very considerate and thoughtful - especially for a sophomore, eh?
me: We have a cousin-pot-smoking ritual on the day of the family Christmas party (sorry if I haven't told you about that and it's shocking).
Rose: What is the Christmas conflict?
me: And Dan and Alex want to include Zoe this year.
Rose: Ah
me: Acutally everyone does.
But me.
Because I'm conflicted about being a mentor to her and being a liaison for Betsey, etc. and smoking her up.
I don't know what to do.
Rose: I thought it was a Thanksgiving event, though
Does she get high?
me: And to address your previous message, I know that it's important and she is truly extraordinarily beautiful, for a sophomore. That is usually the height of awkward phase.
I don't know, last time I talked with her about it she didn't smoke.
She had had one drink before and didn't like it.
This is all in total confidence, of course, although I am breaching the intergenerational secrecy gap.
Rose: My brother Dan provided me with my first marijuana opportunity
though I must say, not as healthy a relationship as the one you practice.
Some day I will have to tell you about the weekend that Betsey was left in charge of the homestead.
me: Oh shit.
Rose: Not a wholesome weekend, I must say.
me: I thought that was the Bishop?
That's the story I got from your brothers, anyway.
The truth comes out.
Rose: This was in the late 70s early 80s
Definitely 1981
me: In any case, I was most certainly told that all instances of parental absence were substituted with the Bishop's presence at the estate.
Rose: My battery is about to die and I am too lazy to go downstairs ang get my power cord.
me: Role model extraordinaire.
Only teasing.
Rose: that is untrue
me: Love you very much.
Talk to you soon.
You ARE an extraordinary role model.
I mean, look at me.
Rose: I love you too - I owe you a story. though it may horrify you
me: Well after the story about the night I was conceived, I think I'm safe from being horrified.
Rose: Alright, when I disappear mysteriously (hi Nance) it's because my computer died
me: Well I thought you were leaving anyway?
Rose: The light is flashing - you know, I'll keep typing until I get kicked out.
me: Well I'm thinking about absconding to Kennebunk to roll with Zoe for the day on Sunday.
Does that sound like a good idea?
Rose: That sounds like a great idea.
Sent at 10:55 PM on Tuesday
Rose: OK you logged off at that. I guess I have horrified you.
me: No I didn't log off
You did.
My computer tells me you logged off.
Rose: Oh, it said you were gone
me: Don't impugn my honor.
Rose: Am I still here?
me: Yes, Anne.
Rose: It is shockingly frightening the similarities given that there is no genetic connection
me: I know.
That is so promising for me.
Seriously.
Rose: and who do you wish to emulate? present company excluded?
me: What do you mean?
Anne of course
Nance occasionally
Rose: Oh
me: Pharrell
you
Rose: Nance in your moments of prolonged intoxication
me: Thanks mom
Rose: oops meant to hit back space -wasn't going to send that after reading it
Though she did have some rather extraordinary valium vacations
me: I'm taking one of those in a few years
just once
in the Mediterranean
on my double decker yacht
Rose: remember to wear sunscreen
Sent at 11:01 PM on Tuesday
me: Good advice
Rose: And thank you for the props in the emulation roster
That's what a mother is for.
the sunscreen reminder, that is
me: And emulation
Rose: Me and my computer are fading.
I did not fnish the reading for the class and have no time before Thursday at 4
me: SLEEEEEEP WELL
Rose: maybe I can intuit operant behavior
and response classifications
me: uh oh didn't do your reading?
tisk tisk
chatting with teacher via gmail?
Rose: nope.
me: Who has prolonged periods of intoxication, again?
Rose: I have been trying to catch up on the reading because I added a week late
I must admit it is interesting and is giving me significant insight to my significant other
me: How Sex & the City of you to say
Rose: At least I know which experiments he's performing on me at any given time
me: Dr. Creepy returns
Rose: that isn't as seemly as it sounds
me: I think I want to make a zombie movie called that
Rose: It's just who he is
me: He seems seemly?
Rose: He does applied behavior analysis without meaning to - or he says he doesn't
Rachel calls him Darth Vader
me: I'm Darth Vader
but he can be The Emperor
so much creepier
Rose: Well you're going to have to get out your light sabre and take him on for the title
She thinks I'm Yoda
Of course, she's princess Leia
me: Pansy
Rose: Mark is Luke Skwalker and Mike is - i don't know - one of those sand creatures
?
me: Jabba the Hut
Rose: or Bobofet
me: Or R2D2
Rose: Who is the least imaginitive in Star Wars?
Yes.
me: He can only beep
but he IS hiding the plans to the Death Star
Rose: He speaks and no one can understand him - he's definitely programmed
very astute of you, Ms. whitmore
Sent at 11:14 PM on Tuesday
Rose: OK, I said I was going to sleep 45 minutes ago - why won't my computer die?!
multiple punctuation annoys me.
me: I don't know because it is striving to maintain our connection
and waiting for you to tell me about Betsey's weekend.
Rose: I did tell you - it was the bed check. Of course it involved cocaine, pot, booze, late nights and unexpected company
but I would recommend not being the one to introduce Zoe to the holilday smoke fest
me: You didn't tell me about the night.
That's my inclination.
Rose: if necessary you must recuse yourself and talk her out of it
me: But I always strive not to be the most moral one in a bunch
looks like it's my turn
Rose: except when you're setting an example / being a role model
me: Right.
I have to remember it within that framework.
But I am always the fucking lame cousin.
Saraband.
http://www.deyrolle.com/magazine/
Dear Futurism, Please arrive with Red Velvet Cupcakes, Sofia Minis, Madeline, Babar books, a Magic Eight Ball, and a charming young man who is pretty and articulate and rolls his own cigarettes.
I’m having dinner in a restaurant, alone, before the poetry reading. It’s a restaurant where they know me, you know, in case anything happens. I’ve decided to keep this journal at least for tonight, maybe for our information, maybe as a companion. It’s not a letter though of course I was tempted to make it a love letter. In a way I’ll write as little as possible. I thought this afternoon at least I’m not an infant but it didn’t last. Tired, hungry and scared: it’s hard to chew leaves. I’ve taken a quarter of a valium and had a beer, the power of the imagination. What’s the difference between a grownup and a child? First day of summer. I don’t have to eat this dinner. The salad appeals to me more, the real food seems forbidding. I ate an olive, that’s hopeful. Never eaten one before. I guess I’m refusing to eat. All of this seems very clear, I’m not at all confused about it, but I’m wondering what’s going to happen.
I can see the helpless infant and all its fits, what I can’t see is this: how does this happen, this pattern or transference or whatever it is. I want to know how, neurologically and every other way. It seems a lot different from anything I know. I’m chewing just like a baby as though solid food’s too much for me. Something interesting happened before, I felt businesslike. I haven’t eaten much but I got some energy. She turned down the baby food and ate the salad without teeth. It’s interesting to know no matter how little you eat, the food serves you. Spend the night alone, o.k. I’ll try. And did I start writing as a companion to myself? Who cares? Well, right at this moment, everything’s urgent, everything’s new. I wanted to eat for energy, I knew I didn’t have to eat but I wanted to be able to drink without getting drunk so I eat. The secret is to eat in front of friends.
How strange, from a baby’s point of view, my relationship with you is. Water, wine, tea and strength. And salad. I’m getting an enormous sense of humor like a hard-on. Tea weak tea Tetley tea my favorite kind of commercial tea. The work I did today, mimeographing posters, I did a terrific job and they’re being really terrific in my restaurant but will I have the energy, the walking legs, to go out to a bar later, say, at two or three a.m. Only in defense of a kernel of corn, I wish I were that. A soul can’t be hurt by tea. Today I saw the man I was supposed to marry when I was seventeen. I acted like a mother, I can guess, ought to act. Like a blotter, I didn’t get involved. I feel like the wife of the owner. No I don’t but she is getting spooked by my behavior, sitting before my expensive dinner and only writing in my book. Is behavior a puzzle with a solution or not?
So I keep wanting to say I love you, please accept this as only an element in the pattern is complex. I don’t mean to give you a hard time. Laughter cures what I might say next, I’m so sorry. I’ll get a Guinness Stout for the reading, more support for a mother, sure not as brave, brave as Jack Kerouac, what do we do to ourselves? Do our best? I feel freer in this area of feeding than in the dreaded empty home. I love Max, I know you don’t believe me, I spent a lot of money today, I’m being very careful. I feel my way around like a baby, fear of adults. For David the myth of poetry exists like a canal.
And now I’m exhausted, why don’t they feed me when I’m hungry, and the ink’s too black. I keep trying to feel the way I would feel if Max or who were here. The reading’s gone on too long, I panic but and I seem to be totally what. What I mean is these people don’t make me nervous they make me bored. I’m exhausted and it’s a struggle to concentrate. I’m home. Max called right away and I didn’t want to talk but I did and so I did and then I realized that I must assure you again that I do love him. I’ve laid out all the pills next to the bed and the t.v.’s on, now that sounds like it, but it’s valium and antibiotics. The window’s open but I haven’t crept out onto the fire escape yet. The walk out here, it is a long loft, wasn’t as bad as it sometimes is. I leave all my clothes on as it’s safer. I switch to a brown pen as black was too oppressive and thick-pointed. I’m alone here yes. I can only eat little bits again. This is very interesting, I mean that. Distance and the phone call are terrifying, ending, this is an ordeal, no reason for it either, my memory of the past, mother, father, what difference does it make, here I am in the act of my own conception, like a drug without the pre-selling acid of something you get, fear, I walked outside, there’s a certain point at which you get dizzy if you want to, I do and don’t. I’m too tired to weed out all these thoughts for you. I won’t be dramatic but this is traumatic, now if I say that I distance myself, I’ll have to pay or suffer. Max is so interesting I’m speeding. Proud of myself and afraid of dying. I’d call you on the phone but what I’d say wouldn’t be to the point, a big quiet laugh will do. I went outside to see if the door was locked. So I’ve drunk a small glass of Amontillado behind the bricks and I won't take the antibiotic because I haven't eaten. I still say to myself when I see I can be alone for a while, humans can adapt to anything. A moment of hopefulness. I feel like I’m risking my life. These notes are censored now. Once I wanted to do something whereby a person, by means of a complicated code, would record his every thought and mind movement for a short while. I wanted to set it up. I feel that these are all clues and you must solve the puzzle. Not abstractly but hesitatingly, I also feel ashamed. I have thought, the thought popped up, so many times of you being “inundated” with written material and of course I want to please you.
And my next thought always is: Do I know you? Goddammit, it drives me crazy. I know I’m not crazy. Can I give this to you? And then I feel desire and then I feel cold. I’m leaving everything open.
STRONG TENDENCY
-
A strong tendency to want
to have the pleasant, agreeable,
comfortable, secure feelings be all pervasive
And always going for that
And feeling if there is ...
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