Thursday, January 14, 2010


*This piece was written a year ago when I actually was delusional and feverish.

I’m lying in bed and my perspective is that of one point. I am stuck. I am moaning and all I hear are the neighbors next door. Moaning. Joyously. While I am here with my dog throwing up next to me and my head exploding with infectious mucus and the phone has fallen on the ground far away-too far to reach. Am I dying? I’m dying. What is that light-that bright orange light coming from my front door? What the fuck is that light doing on? Did I turn it on? Is that even a normal light or is someone shining a flashlight in on me. The world’s biggest, brightest flashlight is shining on me, the thing is huge and brother believe it is bright. I must be dying. Years later I’ll look back at this, yes I will still be alive because I, in fact am not dying, and I will say wow, that was some infection. Everything is so distorted through the fever that I am carrying. The flames of this disease are taking over my mind, my spinal cord. I go to the doctor a few days later and she literally says holy shit when she looks up my nose to see blood and neon green mucus. Meningitis she says. Oh fuck that’s why I’m in such a bad mood. My mom thinks I’m rebelling but I’m not, I’m just tired and shit ma, I got meningitis. You should be saying how much you love me, saying your good byes. This is it mom, I’m dying. You’re not dying dear. What? I am. The doc says I’m dying. No dear, she says you could have gotten close to death, how’s your back feel? It fucking hurts I have fucking meningitis what’d you think? Shit I never cleaned up my dogs throw up-it’s just sitting there drying in the floor; the floor of my “one bed-room” shit ain’t a one bedroom. More like a studio. And what the fuck was that bright light? I never got that answered.


I bought a typewriter for $9. Also
I bought a sack of Drum.
The typewriter is broken
but is motivated and determined
to tap-tap-tap real soon.
The tobacco is moist and easy to roll.
My Heart is wanting some Real Love
but that won't be getting fixed by me
right now. I think
I'll let that soak for a bit like a
saltwater bath for a mermaid
stuck in a city
that never sleeps or eats
anything but Korean
takeout that
smells like garlic and ginger,
which can only mean one thing.
Kimchi strengthens
your immune system
(and your soul)
just like Real Love does.
And so
All you need is Kimchi
and a few fat tracks
to sway to on a cold night
in November with the
full moon glowing
in a sunset that'll make you
grab at your chest
while listening to the master of love
beg some dame to stop breaking his heart.

Je me prĂ©senterai maintenant…

I am a young, partially educated, spiritually inclined woman. I am often questioning and wondering lots of traditional things; common woes, like what is love? (baby don't hurt me) or why are we as humans set up to feel so many similar things that feel wonderful and wretched. In mid 2008 I started writing. It really has been no more than 8 months that I've been attempting to write but in this time I've figured something out, I love writing. And so, I will write and share this with you. As a side note, I have been published on one website twice. Email me or comment with thoughts. I'd love to share and be shared all sorts of words and ideas.