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2011-08-09 - 10:17 p.m.

the land was ours before you were a land.

The pull of the corner is so strong... even though the people there only smile at me because I have money, it makes you feel like you belong, somehow. I've spent my whole life not belonging anywhere, seeking that feeling of fitting in. Drug dealers have that welcoming smile that makes you feel like you're coming home, like this is where you should be. via.

* * *


"no thank you - it looks delicious but i'm staying away from desserts right now." he's such a polite little boy.

but when he thinks no one is looking, he grabs big handfuls of cookies and runs downstairs. the stealth and transgression become essential to the pleasure, this coping mechanism.

he's put on a lot of weight, and fast.

when i think about his mom, my heart seizes up and i find it hard to breathe. she may have unfixable, untreatable brain deficits and disorders, but at the root of it all, she's a stone cold goddamn manipulative bitch.

how much damage can be offset in one short week? there is so little we can do to tend the seeds we try to plant.

uproot those weeds.

* * *


as i drive the little guy down the dark and rainy road to the bungalow, a sad litany rises from the back seat. "do you think my mom will be happy to see me? she sounded mad on the phone. i hope she's happy to see me..."

"i know she'll be happy when she sees you," i tell him.

tonight, i will shame her into acting like a good mother. she thinks we're playing checkers, but i can see how the pieces and pawns will march into the endgame.

* * *


reading: beckett, pinter and genet - it's like time travel, sometimes.
listening to: pomegranates - we could have escaped, but no one was interested.
working on: the rhythm of things.
in the garden: tomatoes and eggplants - time for caponata to be put by.


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