or wearing a faux diamond bracelet because trophies are objects are
|Aug 26||Public post|| 1|
an accumulation. I have so many things to do in so little time. too little time to avoid idiomatic cliché but not too little time to talk about it & the sort. the mascots of the summer have been clowns & squirrels & tattooed men. the last characteristic causes the most conversation between the best & banal bubblings of my being. I can't hardly stand it, it's troubling me, all tore up when I've already mentioned having things to do. I just said in the last 20 minutes how I work best under pressure & I mean I do ruminate at such a density when pressure is applied the richest parts rise to the top. what is excessiveness in a poor bxtch's mouth? I hate when everyone in the café is a white man but me. it happens literally all the time. & they all look at/through me different. all too much somehow. I can't help but size them all up. the regulars make it easy to jump to the day's new assortment anonymous AnyMans. do you ever just wanna fight someone for the socks they have on. I'll be the 17th to admit I have a problem.
commentary as a competitive act. documentation as leisure. I pretend I fill my time with so much work but I do. I had something else, to begin with. commentary is a name game & I am Tournament.
I have planted a purpleheart tree next to a pool in my own private Idaho. every lyric feels like a warning. every scene sheds too much light. I like to feel the length of your back. Tamia asked, "what could it be, is there someone imitating me?" & I hate when lyrics sound so poignant but have no relevance to my life. I get imposter syndrome most listening to music. if I like it I'll hum it. if I hate it'll stay in my head forever. if I love it, I'll cry wishing I could say the words to or you would say these words to XYZ. projection without a screen. I am every "oh baby" & moan it just the same.
there are three idlewilds I now know of. the first was in California. the second is famous Outkast movie musical. & now a third in Michigan that used to be a Black-owned vacation spot before whites got mad about it. my mother's family called her Ms. Tournament because she won her speech & debate competitions & later on became a pageant queen. chronomentrophobia is the fear of clocks. Andre 3000 taught me that. & I have never prioritized vacation. away has always meant work or escape.
the sounds of dogs whining tickle a hard spot for me. I've never fully gotten into using animals as emotional support. though I fucking love cats & hate killing bugs. the only animals I like to make domestic are men. the sounds of men whining don't tickle me. I'm unfortunately still looking to men for emotional support. but not like I use to. I used to imagine being someone's soul mate. a man's best friend. now I find myself in litters of beasts. all of us, kin & gestating more possibilities. this doesn't mean I'm not looking for someone to take me home but I no longer see my present place as the pound. there are so many wildnesses for us to punctuate our place in this world, I wish my love wasn't one.
there are ways bodies, sync up. unstrangers dancing in a nondescript distance. regulars with irregulars. feasible best by content with naming what you can't seem to ignore. & I haven't even begun my work for the day. the work I need to do. just woke up feeling like a winner wanting a man who makes me happen whether he knows it or not. & every other facsimile around feels taut & shreddable. there will be a different amount of me here in a day's time, a week. but I mean this will be noticeable. to me. I still see my shadow's shyest stances in the mirror.