tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-62893222011-07-30T20:26:21.176-04:00Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comBlogger8091100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-50823234081407252362010-09-30T23:38:00.002-04:002010-09-30T23:41:08.675-04:00

Dear friends, this blob is slowly sliding over to zulieka.com.

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-68461804146709253262010-07-27T23:46:00.002-04:002010-07-28T01:15:51.199-04:00

STILL LIFE WITH FAST MOVING DOGNew dog. He is an all-muscle greyhound, looks like a horse and is spooked like one too. So suddenly I am getting up early (is 7:30 a.m. early? Perspective is off.) This dog takes up so much space it's like having another man in the house. Too bad he can't shape-shift into boy form, big stupid boy with big stupid heart and white teeth and biceps. He has his racing

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-60260440605395248482010-06-30T00:05:00.002-04:002010-06-30T03:37:11.246-04:00

DOE WITH POINTSWithout music, I would have been a lesser person. I had no choice in my exposure to it, so sometimes I wonder which way I would have gone without it. Freddy and my brothers still ask me why I stopped painting. Painting and drawing were private pursuits that I controlled without input from my mother or from teachers. Two-year-olds like to color where they are not supposed to, on

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-39109115540448505362010-06-19T00:34:00.003-04:002010-06-19T01:29:10.434-04:00

It's just easy to get in and out of here. Summer, in three days, is when I'll start the transfer to zulieka.comI can't go to LA. Our fights are pathetic. We turn into hairy, violent creatures. It's not LA that I want to go to--I want to just go. I become pathological, whatever that means. Selfish mostly. A nasty bitch is his favorite moniker. He becomes the man I consciously have ousted

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-88190082109040066102010-05-26T00:45:00.003-04:002010-05-26T01:39:02.766-04:00

Our appetites are different. I need salt and vinegar in the evening, I used to need men. I need money, I used to need tonguing. I used to get depressed as a matter of routine fasting from enjoyment when the spiritual tolerance of enjoyment keeled to a side as it does when you fuck too much, now I eat chocolate mice because the cat is never away. I am a cat who can't stand cats, and the cat is

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-54030015183778144822010-04-26T23:09:00.000-04:002010-04-26T23:10:37.726-04:00

SHRIMPS KEEP COMINGLiu Liu, a name curling into itselfLike the shrimp on the napkin under the lampThat bunches up into its legs.Snapped in half dryShe shelled, she consumedCompacting space itselfwith endless mind-numbing rigor.Her shirt was in my hand, it was cheap.It was warm and transparent. We became tinier.

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-79590993594509000442010-04-17T01:06:00.002-04:002010-04-17T01:23:50.057-04:00

If you stop eating in earnest, taking nibbles under the covers instead, you turn a little blue around the lips and start moving slowly. When you start moving slowly, with the fat gone from your boobs and your pants hanging full of air where used to be derriere, sex goes out of your head too. With the sex out of your head, bunches of red cartoon hearts stream out of your chest, and then you are

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-60545990151773718602010-04-14T23:20:00.002-04:002010-04-14T23:41:19.981-04:00

I love your stories. Tell me a story, Mama. Pleeease.Okay. So there was this man. He lived all by himself in a hut at the top of the mountain.But why was he all by himself? Where were his parents?His parents were dead. He was a very old man. He smoked a pipe. To keep himself busy, he carved little animals out of blocks of wood. One day he carved a horse with a beak. The next day he

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-88590126686452845262010-04-09T01:22:00.002-04:002010-04-09T01:50:39.205-04:00

Dream from last week that I want to hold onto--A concert is interrupted when the business man who sponsored it directs a cadre of box office attendants and ushers to walk through the rows carrying poles off of which beautiful evening gowns swing. At the mike onstage it is explained that these gowns belonged to his dead daughter.********************ALL ABOUT WARM WEATHER AND WHAT IT BRINGS1. I

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-38192994408554098972010-03-24T00:09:00.003-04:002010-03-24T03:08:52.568-04:00

I can only post sporadically until the summer. Once a week I touch this beautiful Steinway Grand. I have to wax. Like a race car of a piano, it's sensitive and responsive. It carries a melting sound, and reaches softs as soft as you dare. It takes all the muscle you have and doesn't break into the hard scraping stridency of cheaper pianos. I can whisper, tell secrets, and bring in some rain

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-30041439529542403152010-03-14T00:57:00.002-05:002010-03-14T03:25:44.743-04:00

BONDAGEJoking about the jobs I could take during the summer when my schedule slackens. Number one is the kitsch fantasy of whipping meek men as Mistress Zulieka kohl-eyed in a catsuit. No one would buy it, I'm just meek.Some things you keep under wraps for diplomacy or tact, but in my daily interactions, I shift into different modes out of fear that my authentic self would piss people off, or

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-72167665914988217602010-03-08T23:50:00.002-05:002010-03-09T01:07:41.876-05:00

I am kind of sad that the snow melted today. There was quite an impressive pile of it on either side of the driveway, shored up with the first snowfall from November still in the bottom layer, and all the shovelling it took to make those walls--it's hard to justify how much I sweat for it when it was all going to melt eventually. I was just starting to like winter. What do you do with March?

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-74862162019590548302010-02-26T23:59:00.002-05:002010-02-27T00:57:48.221-05:00

OLD FRIENDSDo you ever wake up in your own room, seein' your own beige background roses wallpaper, with your own jeans and sweaters thrown onto the dresser on top of the alarm clock, and feel the kind of surprised panic of the sort you would feel if you had just run over your own cat in the road (this is why I don't have a cat, at least not a mortal one)? Do you put your hands on your head and

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-48365545596488547522010-02-15T00:22:00.002-05:002010-02-15T01:00:20.283-05:00

In the bath for several minutes you wait for little bubbles to build bubble towers on your arm and leg hairs. If you lift your leg out of the water, you can hear them pop. You wouldn't be able to hear just one of them pop, but thousands of them popping are almost as loud as a swish. Everyone knows the decibel of a swish. Louder than any sound out of my mouth. Micaela stuffed her bed and

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-69549271304993050542010-02-13T00:18:00.005-05:002010-02-15T00:22:15.220-05:00

ON THE ELEVENTHI don't want to imagine being ninety-five and still sleeping naked in the bed at a nursing home when it will no longer be charming. It seems important, where I am now, not to ever be ninety-five, or even sixty-five. I try to go to sleep wearing at least panties and a camisole, but they always comes off in a rage in the early morning and get thrown into the darkness. I held off

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-75931863245130786272010-02-06T00:33:00.002-05:002010-02-06T01:11:11.867-05:00

Micaela did not have hair on her head like the rest of us, she had tresses, slippery and heavy and black. I brushed them, roped them in my hands, weaved braids and coils and watched them spring out into their natural form with the removal of a tie or pin. But those same pores that grew these miraculous locks were oily and angry on her face, and while I brushed she squeezed and prodded her

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-28564043776190202232010-02-03T00:13:00.004-05:002010-02-06T00:33:24.797-05:00

The idea that it can't be written any other way because it is complete, permanent, and stoic. A kind of formalism I guess. The first word births the next word births the next, and then the last word births the first. You lose the rush of spontaneity, but then you lose the gibberish of it also. Because it can't move any other way, it must move forward, and it moves like a heavy rusted gear

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-69662938194438537802010-02-01T00:03:00.003-05:002010-02-01T01:38:27.214-05:00

THAT SIDEOnce in a while I sweat into the sheets dreaming that I've been found out here and am about to get canned. So I keep watering down the content, but that becomes boring, trying to spin a web around what actually needs to be blurted out (good at watering and spinning. better at blurting.) We'll call him Eddy and her Uli and we won't talk about what is done for bread. Better yet, we'll

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-27960302439677890892010-01-26T23:23:00.002-05:002010-01-27T00:14:28.696-05:00

GAMESThey are somehow connected to the practice of religion. You play, and make up rules, have an objective, designate winners and losers. My friend Halvah and I in third grade were given the honorary duty of watering the plants in the classroom, and we walked a specific path over the floor tiles to the water fountain, chanting. Certain colored tiles you could not step on. For each drop of

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-43950018616361015662010-01-24T23:45:00.004-05:002010-01-27T10:59:17.033-05:00

I sang last night, and had a blast. I started drinking though, and at the last set the band played my intro for several minutes before I realized I was on. I apologize for all the other noise, I left my purse with the recorder in it on a table at the back.Tell me more and more and then someYou know what I long to hearI want more and more and then someOf that I love you only dearTell me more and

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-74910184531453937072010-01-11T23:38:00.005-05:002010-01-12T00:27:32.981-05:00

I'd rather be reading than writing is one small problem, but there are like 40 other ones, like the impending debut/bomb of my very first jazz gig which is freaking me out. And finding out my little girl has a Congenital Defect--not a huge deal, what it turned out to be, but broke my heart all the same to have her grabbing my wrist with both hands and oozing tears silently when the catheter went

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-79417001791858792932009-12-31T10:20:00.001-05:002009-12-31T10:21:48.518-05:00

Not going away, just on vacation. Back for the New Year.

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-13199552217704756882009-12-14T23:37:00.002-05:002009-12-14T23:53:50.055-05:00

Effed up dream from Saturday night. Dowagers, cousins. Gardening. They dig up a tibia. Not especially bothered about it. The one old lady doesn't spend a dime and borrows money from her cousin even though she has millions. The other old lady whimpers and aims to please, hoping to inherit. Gigolos in pink stuffy bedrooms. I walk in to avenge the dead guy whose name happens to be David.

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-42637897020113942922009-12-02T23:47:00.003-05:002009-12-03T00:39:56.772-05:00

I love to be with people who can talk because I can't. Too many choices, too many words--I'm still thinking about what I should have said three minutes ago when every one else is partying forward. I'm very envious of people who have the gift of gab.David can talk and talk, and remember dialogue from everything that passes, and does the voices and the accents. We have been calling him V. here,

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-25253099390066635382009-12-01T22:54:00.002-05:002009-12-02T00:25:01.428-05:00

WHITE AS SNOWThe guy who owns Yacob Funds LLC is playing Mary Had a Little Lamby in twelve keys. You know, I hate how Google makes me so paranoid. I am checking with Google to make sure Yacob Funds doesn't exist, and praying that my reference to a children's song doesn't get pulled up by a home schooler who might know me because I taught piano to five of her nine children. Google, you are a

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-31562983449666159742009-11-29T02:51:00.005-05:002009-11-29T03:04:10.646-05:00

Fine, here are the photos for yu and yu and yu. The thing is, nobody is taking my picture any more. The one on the hill was taken by Zulita, and you can see that the camera is too heavy for her. The next one is the next most recent one I have, but it's at least two years old and has appeared here before.

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-60518077055970518052009-11-24T00:48:00.004-05:002009-11-25T01:42:28.317-05:00

DELTA OF SMALL BEANSZulieka has gone away, and left in her stead is this uptight mousy thing with hag hair, hair and bones. It takes fish oil and Vitamin D supplements, and stashes fifty bucks into a mutual fund instead of getting a haircut. You think you want pictures of it, boys? You are warned, it's like an albino octopus from the deep, weird in an eww way and not something to stick in your

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-42260949433478034062009-11-15T00:26:00.002-05:002009-11-15T00:58:52.904-05:00

THUMBING Call it self-indulgent (if it's interesting, if only it were!), onanistic, and a way to show some cleavage either metaphorically or with actual photos. What you are reading when you read a diary is the author's love letters to herself. Page after page, fifteen entries a day? That is some heavy wooing.Who else would put so much time and thought (mostly time, seldom thought) into how to

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-85048536057119046272009-11-12T00:50:00.003-05:002009-11-12T01:21:48.518-05:00

Somehow we ended up in North Station right after a Celtics game at eleven at night. Did you see us there? I was wearing an orange beret. I was the only mother stupid enough to keep my four-year-old out that late. We'd missed an earlier train and had to wait two hours.I have enochlophobia: fear of crowds. Crowds function differently from soloists, and crowds are capable of horrendous acts of

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-69954540068944490012009-11-10T23:41:00.002-05:002009-11-11T00:35:42.480-05:00

ELENADo you remember Elena? Well of course you do, because you spied us both peeing behind your car in the parking lot when you came out of Walgreens with your saline nose spray. You took pictures of her pretending to be dead in the swimming pool. She popped up to say that she hadn't drowned, someone had strangled her and then dumped her body. Buoyed by her enormous sun-burnt boobs. Elena my

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-84340873388023030842009-11-08T22:39:00.003-05:002009-11-08T23:47:51.057-05:00

You are not supposed to let love ruin your life; you are supposed to rewire your brain to understand that there are many fish in the sea, and one lover, boyfriend, or husband out the door frees you up to find someone else. But I believe that one person can haunt and ruin you for love for the rest of your life, partially because they want to do this to you, and mostly because you ask them to do

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-37059693255801747802009-11-01T22:50:00.002-05:002009-11-01T23:41:45.365-05:00

SUFFOCATIONBlank blank blank. But shells can be dangerous.I am in the tub rolling around with him, and all kinds of people, the whole world as I know it in fact, are yelling and banging on the door. I am terrified and looking for windows to jump out of, and he is just chuckling. Who cares about them? Me, I care, because I am total patsy.This is what mothers can do to you. Mine always warned

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-46737663889089262062009-10-31T00:21:00.002-04:002009-10-31T02:19:35.978-04:00

GRANITE AND BEIGE PLAGUEZumi has been sick with what in all probability is that Flu. She had a very high fever for two days, seemed to recover, and then became worse with more fever and a cough. She slept and wouldn't budge for 14-17 hour stretches. I tried to shake her awake to get some water into her, and filled an old baby bottle with milk thinking I could pull her thumb out of her mouth

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-77975071943288037422009-10-04T23:23:00.002-04:002009-10-04T23:50:41.358-04:00

This unfinished room is the place for my repressed ego to assert its angers; as you may suspect, I am defensively shy, extremely obedient, and will lie down on a busy street if a bigger dog tells me to. I've got the gaping inferiority complex of a narcissist, and when I catch my own mistakes, like a misspelled word or a mispronunciation in conversation, I agonize about it for days. I keep a

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-18513647275632120222009-10-04T00:58:00.003-04:002009-10-04T02:08:06.559-04:00

FIND THE LINKBoth Freddy and Zulita love Mozart, so I know I can get away with playing Rondo alla turca past midnight without fearing footfalls and an axe coming down the stairs to chop up the piano or me. Mozart is terribly difficult. It's a bright light on your flaws. I've avoided Mozart except for the rare--very rare--minor key pieces which are intense and dark (albeit a dark that still

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-18031188619215208502009-09-30T22:57:00.002-04:002009-09-30T23:34:36.627-04:00

My mother came over this morning, and hearing her voice--dreadful in the morning--I stayed under the covers and pretended to sleep. My excuse for her is that she has OCD, to explain the need she has to exert control over anyone who trespasses into her dominion. "Did you call Trisha, what are you going to do about the car, does Zumi have school today, when can you come over to put up the garden

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-303648554667445772009-09-22T00:41:00.004-04:002009-09-22T02:10:32.793-04:00

GRAPESOn long car trips, me and my little brother would look out the window and sing opera recitatives to drive my parents bonkers, like "Oh lord! Did you see that cow over there? It is taking a dump!" "But my dearest Zuli, you mustn't look at the backside of things all time for you never know when something grand, something bright, something mag-ni-fi-cent---(getting higher and higher in

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-36871391011280645292009-09-14T00:25:00.002-04:002009-09-14T02:03:37.345-04:00

NIGHT ENTERTAINMENTI remember my dreams if I am smoking pot, because sleep is disturbed, or if I stay in bed after breakfast so that I can review the images. (I haven't gotten high for five years probably. I had a sack in a coffee mug in the cupboard for a while, smelly sticky beautiful buds, but I think it's true that you need some fat to store it up; it did nada. Generally dislike potheads.

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-63753532618535905022009-09-09T00:40:00.002-04:002009-09-09T01:01:52.098-04:00

Good god, what happened here. Don't tell me this is what happens when you have a kid; it don't make sense. Having a kid makes you smarter.The shitty first hour or year after you get dumped by your first love, that is how I feel when I hear a piece I've played, played by someone else on the radio. It's only a sickness, no other way around it, to develop a closer attachment to art than to people

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-47644980474177492282009-09-01T22:41:00.002-04:002009-09-01T23:43:03.249-04:00

A student I'd become attached to quit today, a real downer. If she quit because she found a different teacher or a different instrument, then although it hurts the ego I'd at least be satisfied that music would continue to be in her life. If she quit because she wasn't interested in the first place and her parents were forcing her to learn, I'd just shrug my shoulders and wish her well. Julie

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-17755767674250813212009-08-23T00:38:00.003-04:002009-08-23T01:47:18.588-04:00

Dad made hexagon tables, hexagon kites, and built a hexagon house on the ranch. It was just one big room with a concrete floor, no electricity, walls painted turquoise, a fireplace in the middle. There was a privy a few yards away, and that was also hexagon-shaped. I didn't do anything there on god-awful hot weekends but read mysteries, sitting on towels dampened with melted ice from the

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-21407176409080077702009-08-21T22:21:00.002-04:002009-08-22T02:33:45.971-04:00

Not what to include, but what to leave out. If I leave it out, it's still conspicuous. If I make no mention of it, it's too obvious. If I only talk warts and crap, because that's the only way I know to mask sentimental nostalgia (sentimental nostalgia isn't for real; it masks warts and crap) then you have to guess that my insides are as mushy as a sea urchin's (have you ever eaten uni?) and

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-48780871806159397402009-08-21T00:09:00.003-04:002009-08-21T09:52:21.432-04:00

YOUR AMERICABrown T., he was friends with a rich kid and the kid's parents paid for his tuition so that he would keep their son company at the boarding school. We both had minor parts in "that Scottish play". Who do you think I played? The one hag who says "Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf..." I think he played the Scottish doctor. They had to modify his part because he couldn't memorize his

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-2130660306880674942009-08-19T22:52:00.003-04:002009-08-20T00:16:27.546-04:00

SYPHILISNot easy to track down in the histories of artists and musicians because understandably references to it in letters and diaries are disguised. A mere genius, given to distraction and laziness, visits an infected prostitute and becomes a focused creative genius. The fear of insanity and death raises the threshold of life, and so we can feel out of the work a nervousness and a reckless

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-53191893173479313712009-08-14T00:51:00.002-04:002009-08-14T01:41:02.291-04:00

TOILETSI spent six hours, or maybe even thirteen hours, looking for that special slippery race-car toilet that would put me out of my misery: a toilet to dream on, to write short stories on, to be like Mrs. Glass upon with a cigarette. Going on three weeks now without a bathroom. The man of the house goes in a bucket on the porch, the baby has her training potty, but I don't ever need to go

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-80391391920970136122009-08-11T00:05:00.005-04:002009-08-11T02:00:46.923-04:00

SWELTERI still have dreams about this third grade boy who wore a Denver Broncos t-shirt that I ripped the tag out of. I scored that chasing him down during recess, and kept it, the tag out of Jason PBJ's shirt, in my first diary which I finally threw away a few months ago. Keeping things like that is a little bit sick, and now that I've gotten rid of it I can pretend that I'm not a little bit

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-73777991034552389482009-08-02T01:27:00.002-04:002009-08-02T02:09:55.284-04:00

You really shouldn't write when you have nothing to say--you really should consider whether you have something in you that warrants being let out. Or else, you have to begin like this. With a lot of wandering, it might come out, eventually, in a kind of strange and clumsy way. By and large though, it wasn't meant to be. Brainstorming--I hate that. You don't have to look for a feeling. Why

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-42395474785708688062009-07-27T00:16:00.005-04:002009-07-27T01:18:39.163-04:00

FOG HAPPYFor two weeks, in northern Maine (Downeast as it's called), slumber parties with Marmoset watching her suck on lobster claws, the juice running down into her deeper than ever cleavage. Feeding pigs, counting mosquito bites, a church dinner featuring moose mincemeat pie, taking the kayaks out into the harbor. You are at the tip-top of the U.S. An island at high-tide becomes accessible

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-47132410719655156162009-07-03T00:45:00.002-04:002009-07-03T01:39:21.928-04:00

BACK THENArchaeologists, when writing about extinct civilizations, approach the habits and lifestyles of dug-up pasts with a reverence that is both condescending and puppy-like. Puppy-like with enthusiasm and awe; condescending because it becomes well-defined on the glossy pages of the article that compared to us, the Egyptians, the Mayans, the people who built Angkor Wat, were like toddlers

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-14511360463932423172009-07-01T02:58:00.002-04:002009-07-01T03:53:29.801-04:00

Today, yesterday, last weekend.Brazilians are leaving Boston in droves because they can make more money back in Brazil now. I was at a party of paragliders, some of them Brazilian, one or two with broken bones. Flying squirrels in my head. Freddy goes into another room so that we can pretend not to know each other for a couple of hours. There's an upright piano; just looking at it makes me

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-84639053122565947842009-06-16T13:36:00.000-04:002009-06-16T02:26:19.906-04:00

MUST, MUSTY, MUSKContinuing thoughts on smell: Christopher Brosius, responsible for the infamous Play-do scent, has, with his website image of secretive vials that look like they could contain snake venom or cyanide, and his cryptic monikers and descriptions, made my nose salivate for synthesised odours. (The last time I had perfume about my person was when I lent my shoes to Iliojuet who'd been

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-12637217097533367772009-06-15T01:18:00.002-04:002009-06-15T02:51:24.702-04:00

More archival clips, circa 2002-2003, found on the porch in a wet envelope (to assure you that I am not actually contemplating the big S)--Suicide Note No.1A bright fucking expedient lemon. I am afraid to sleep on it--that is when damage is done--or does it just happen--or is it done, done, and then completed by another, another one, or another piece of gloria halleluiah--it sleeps when I wake,

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-67883371658633155292009-06-15T00:30:00.002-04:002009-06-15T01:16:57.246-04:00

COLLECTINGHe knows. My brain sloshes in a suspension of his wordsAnd in the morning what I've drunkRises up the tongue minute by minute to beat the sunPreoccupied by one last part that remains to be occupied by himThat heart-shaped hollow wherewarmth gives to a litter of brainless broodNubby and eyeless, white like the blindEach one specialEach one left behind.I lie stretched open and waitHe

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-13784284492206185272009-06-10T23:50:00.003-04:002009-06-11T01:08:05.323-04:00

THE MAGI ARE GONEWhere are they, you little demon child? Where did you hide my chocolates?Under my bed, Mama. Here they are, see? I was keeping them for you.This box is empty. These are just wrappers.No, Mama, there's some left. I'll show you.The whimpering child rummages through the empty wrappers. Is genuinely puzzled that a chocolate is not to be found.You ate them all? I can't believe

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-50311769150147155552009-06-09T00:26:00.000-04:002009-06-09T00:30:18.316-04:00

To tide us over until I have time to fix the page.

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-35095419661588742152009-06-08T00:47:00.004-04:002009-06-08T03:08:45.670-04:00

KNOSEThe feeling for and memory of a place, a city, a field, a small room, somebody's armpit, is kept in its scent. Freddy for the last seven months had been ingesting rat poison and beer, which made him smell like an old person in a hospital who is half filled with embalming fluid already. Now he is off of the warfarin, and working in the garden, so his smell is becoming greener. When he

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-63244032926814929272009-06-02T01:05:00.002-04:002009-06-02T01:59:42.873-04:00

Too many instances of piano teachers killing themselves--a hazardous occupation. Paul Sahludman--I am good at names that don't exist anywhere in the world--didn't die, but at age 33, looking greenish around the mouth and in my mind I have even added a white bandage around his head where he might have cut off an ear, moved into his parents' house to give up. He'd been a gifted child, gave his

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-86970423661911257262009-05-26T23:46:00.002-04:002009-05-27T02:46:08.412-04:00

HITLER ON OUR ROOFIt came out of little Lita's mouth. When I looked astonished, she danced around me repeating it, "Hitler on the roof, Hitler on the roof, Hitler on the roof!" A connection has been made in her wafting head--it wafts, like lilacs but more softly--between Hitler and violins and Jews, though of course the essential information is lacking. I could tell her that Hitler was a very

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-46107246597549273002009-05-24T00:33:00.002-04:002009-05-24T02:17:10.784-04:00

S & M"Life isn't about staying alive like a shredded flag on a sinking ship. Life is about abundance, grace, and moving forward. Instead of starving slowly, why not chomp chomp chomp?"--to him to whom the credit goesYou bites people, just rika mosquito, says my mother. She was being bitten through her clothing, even on her ass through her jeans and underwear (she pulled them down to illustrate),

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-11415195851053748382009-05-17T23:43:00.002-04:002009-05-18T01:07:04.867-04:00

Things will look different in here next month when there's time to redesign--sorry about the images being gone for the time being.Am not faring well with the vegetarian diet, which has very quickly removed all roundness from my body. My bras sit on my chest empty. I am looking severe around the jaws and my hip bones and rib cage jut out, so I scare Freddy naked. If anyone knows how to put on

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-89727190239968090332009-05-11T21:35:00.004-04:002009-05-12T00:10:51.976-04:00

WRITING VS. PERFORMINGA great actor or talented musician can give a crummy line direction and intent. With the force of personality and emotion to break through an embarrassment of bad ideas, the poorly crafted piece is kept afloat, with plenty of exertion, dependant entirely on the performer blowing it up there. It can't survive without that unique performer. There is a triumph in this kind of

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-18940740402850123452009-05-09T00:36:00.002-04:002009-05-09T00:47:42.630-04:00

LOBSTER ONDEFLOORThe water was boiling, and it crawled out of the pot onto the floor, it's tail already orange and half-cooked. I threw my hands in the air and ran away.

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-58550050085420181882009-05-05T01:43:00.002-04:002009-05-05T02:43:06.427-04:00

How to stay in control; this is the secret I wanted most from my teachers, and from my mother and father. It's fear that kept my father in, the same way that it's fear that pushes me out. Absolute sacrifice on the table under the knife; who is controlling this? Some of us are volunteers, cautious ones retreat to the observation gallery; this is some sick shit they think, but everyone has to be

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-16697681080874322192009-05-03T01:13:00.002-04:002009-05-03T02:15:50.096-04:00

In the health food section at the grocery store, where frozen edamame is double or triple the price of the same in an oriental food market, and the packaging has very specific labels to attract neurotics like myself: gluten-free, hormone-free, free-range, organic, non-gmo, no soy, all natural, I feel right there that I will crumple to the ground and eat dirt, and turn into dirt, and have plants

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-30004840093096187102009-05-01T01:26:00.002-04:002009-05-01T02:06:03.924-04:00

I got a raise--who the fuck wants to hear about that, I don't even want to hear it. It means I have to keep lowering my profile, and abandon all tit shots.I ate a fungus that was curdled into resembling ground beef. I have a lot in common with phony beef.There are lots of people here. There were not so many people in Oz. I am always on the look out for places to hike and get away from the

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-52402793370742629122009-04-28T02:13:00.002-04:002009-04-28T03:21:35.252-04:00

IT FOLLOWED HER TO SCHOOL ONE DAYI'm quitting mammal and avian meat to see what happens. Will it bring me closer to God? Freddy has gone on a lamb eating binge, bringing back cute little chops all the way from Australia at three dollars a bite. I whipped up bearnaise sauce, five parts clarified butter to one part emulsified egg-yolk and a reduction of tarragon, shallots, and white wine, and

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-68811049188283556152009-04-22T01:25:00.003-04:002009-04-22T02:18:22.044-04:00

WHAT'S A MILF?Herbal remedies today, cayenne pepper drinks and two pairs of infected eyeballs gummed shut in the morning, mine and hers, erythromycin drops. Him: warfarin or rat poison--actually, yes, blood thinners made into poison pellets for mice and larger rodents, quite harmless though for a tall human male. He smells wrong and his nails are tearing away; I think he carries Factor V Leiden

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-42882815820455792692009-04-20T23:01:00.002-04:002009-04-21T00:00:03.389-04:00

OBJECTIFYINGThis inept cranky thing that gets in the way, my body. When to pee, when to feed, remember to stick a tampon in every twenty four days. Its constant nagging. I have to brush my teeth, god. A mouthful of filmy square pieces that if not cleaned three times a day may cause the whole world to shut down in disgust. I am three years old like Zoot, and throwing a tantrum every time I

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-26964343060901563002009-04-15T00:30:00.002-04:002009-04-15T00:54:45.006-04:00

When Freddy comes back from the graveyard shift, we are still in bed. We hide under the covers, and Lita calls out for him to find us. He smells like machines and oil, metallic and burnt. He drinks a beer and washes last night's dishes. Then I slowly figure out who I am and what I am doing here, and reward myself with a piece of bitter chocolate from the cupboard while Lita gobbles up her

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-52170432515637648812009-04-13T22:42:00.002-04:002009-04-13T23:16:55.662-04:00

Beef sucks here, but that there are Italians in town means that there is pancetta at the grocery store; mussels and clams are cheap, and sometimes lobsters too. Dumped out of the sack onto the kitchen floor, they look like large insects, and they terrify my daughter. A good cook has to be into life-death-eating. Lobsters and crabs make me mad with their clatter in the kitchen sink. Why should

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-26905471447471473222009-04-12T23:39:00.002-04:002009-04-13T00:55:18.467-04:00

DEVILED EGGSSome of me might wonder what the hell I can stream now that I've chained up my libido. For this, I have to pump myself full of it, and it isn't connected to anything other than myself. I deflate myself to feed myself. I don't say no.The man with the hairy hands who thinks he can fool me into going for a ride to listen to a new album. How 'bout that. What do you think I said? I'm

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-55299337375155480322009-04-03T23:42:00.004-04:002009-04-04T01:47:39.828-04:00

BIG AND LITTLEAround third grade, two subjects orbited this little bed against the wall covered with a blanket embroidered with children jumping robe and kicking a ball. I liked to touch the chalky wall, it was cool--do you remember being constantly too hot in bed as a child? I used to turn my pillow over in search of a cool spot, and once even sprayed my bed with water, and my grandmother who

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-41523034956286179422009-03-21T23:54:00.002-04:002009-03-22T01:19:45.795-04:00

BARELYYou will know that I'm a Northerner now, pale, unshaven more than ever in my life, and baggy to the bone. Somebody must be taking care to be sexy because I see the adds in the paper: 100 % OFF! Brazilian wax. Some dame in the Bay State baring cooch? Unbelievable.I tried to give myself a waxing to be economical. I bought a wax brand that boasted being all natural and lavender scented

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-90422077807630007512009-03-16T00:56:00.003-04:002009-03-16T02:17:56.889-04:00

"You have something up your sleeve, and it's completely slimy. You were planning to meet up with him.""Can you tell when I'm lying? I don't think you can.""It comes out. It turns into this huge pile of shit you can't cover.""Yeah, but can you tell right off the bat? Because I can tell with you.""I don't lie.""Yes, you do. You do. And you look painfully embarrassed when you do it. We've

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-31380669712651691862009-03-09T00:07:00.002-04:002009-03-09T01:34:14.136-04:00

Drove to the next town, hung out with the locals. Used to be a steel mill town, but inhabitants, excepting the ubiquitous plastic leprechaun statuettes who are loud-mouthed and murderous and know the answer to everything, couldn't tell you what generates the city's revenue in this day. Amazingly good fried fish sandwiches to be found. No "R"'s in anyone's mouth except at the wrong time, and

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-11299647078622346002009-03-03T23:52:00.002-05:002009-03-04T02:21:25.171-05:00

SNOW AND FOUNTAINSShovelling snow is a joke on several levels. First and foremost is the joke played on my wittle body. Second is the way it calls and teases out my obsessive-compulsive desires. (Can I remove every spot of white from the pavement so that this driveway will be the blackest value of black in the town? Yes, you bet I can!) Third, is that while I am shovelling, the snow plow,

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-59728234043192734142009-03-02T00:41:00.002-05:002009-03-02T01:14:21.788-05:00

THE FROG PRINCEI've really given up, I don't know since when. Half-ass, as they say. The sail is neither up nor down, we know we don't believe it but we're too Eeyore-like to move. Lieka's tears and Freddy's fears will make them old before their years. I was reading Mother Goose to Lita tonite, and that one struck home.It's this goddamn winter. A patch of green grass this weekend and now

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-20039709974514085242009-02-26T22:46:00.007-05:002009-02-27T00:35:37.928-05:00

D.C.Leni is my uncle with whom we stayed. He is a relatively new familial acquisition; Aunt Lila married him after she lost her first husband, a good friend of Leni's, to cancer. Within the same year, Leni lost his girlfriend Ping-Ping to cancer as well. They married in grief.Leni is a dog person, Lila has six cats. Lila is so tight that the contents of her refrigerator are typed and listed

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-2660560915653579952009-02-16T23:57:00.005-05:002009-02-17T02:02:26.399-05:00

The only pleasing thing about Grl Sct cookies is the picture of the girl wearing a firefighter hat on the back of Carml Dlites because she is a dead ringer for a then-and-now Iliojuet. The girls don't go door to door anymore; they just send out an email. I have to order two boxes from everyone so the mothers will be obligated to let Zumi play with their younger children. When the boxes are

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-37344457072920630492009-02-15T23:05:00.003-05:002009-02-16T01:39:10.849-05:00

WHAT DID YOU THEREWe were in a tiny blue tiled kitchen, we were like the last people left in the world. Thinking about how much fucking and childbirth was going to be required of me to repopulate the country, feeling tense over the fish scales and guts on the cutting board. I put olive oil in the pan. All we had besides the pan and the fish and olive oil was a bar of chocolate. My big toe had

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-71272587970668990222009-02-15T00:15:00.003-05:002009-02-15T01:03:11.489-05:00

My three year old tries to repair us. "It's Valentine's Day! Mommy, you kiss Daddy. Daddy, you huddle with Mommy, and don't move. I'm going to get something. Don't move, okay?" She opens the refrigerator and brings me a spoon and a tub of kim-chee. She brings her father a Budlight.Freddy got a job tearing envelopes open from 3 AM to 9. About sixty people join him, mainly Hispanic women,

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-36062890457431379282009-02-11T05:21:00.000-05:002009-02-12T06:06:44.680-05:00

My birthday! That's all I get? I give you my brain on a plate to be roasted any which way you please, and you'd rather just have pussy like all the time. When are we going to open that thing, you inquire, is it expired or something? You go down there and suck me dry of another year, you bastard. Your eyes water; it's not a sweet-smelling powder lily, more like a weeping sliced open chilli

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-84547520757869252262009-02-09T23:17:00.002-05:002009-02-10T00:19:53.694-05:00

Once a month I manage to wake up with a memory of "the most beautiful place on Earth dream", a view of blue trees, cold lakes, gold leas. I try to get a picture of it, but my camera is out of batteries, or, when I look again, the scene is of a soccer match.In Nature's context, sleeping around is not harmful, not like coming home with a plastic grocery bag that gets fed to a baby albatross that

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-18052761147962193952009-02-02T21:50:00.002-05:002009-02-02T22:57:33.718-05:00

I am in Big Mall, U.S.A., with two men after me. One walks towards me and one comes up from behind. The one from behind is a greasy looking mother-fucker, but all the same I hope to appeal to his moral sense and be saved from the more ominous F.B.I. Q-tip figure that is approaching. Grease monkey grabs my arm, and I pretend to like him while I look for an escape. We are still in the mall, but

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-73966817586806062762009-01-14T03:09:00.002-05:002009-01-14T04:07:37.264-05:00

I expect to be rewarded, because I have been so good. I cleaned the toilet bowl yesterday and over the weekend I did three loads of laundry and reorganized the dresser drawers. I made sure Lita brushed her teeth every night. I made sure she drank her milk and took at least two bites of protein at each meal. I wore mascara and lip-gloss, and I used product in my hair, and I took Freddy to see

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-54906328904502372032009-01-11T02:05:00.002-05:002009-01-11T04:02:53.712-05:00

BLOODLINEAn hour gets spent this way--that little exuberant face, eyes on fire, breaks me out of my world by wanting to play a puzzle, or reach the kaleidoscope on a shelf, or drink a glass of chocolate milk, and each time she asks me for something the only analogy I can give that's closer to it than holding the life of her for the first time, is the other way around; that from the first moment

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-14806585798589614112009-01-07T01:52:00.002-05:002009-01-07T03:13:18.057-05:00

How much of a hold the childhood has. I dream of my arch-enemy Jennifer J. She moved onto my block in third grade, and I was so excited to have a new friend I stuffed her mailbox with rainbow-decorated welcome cards. Her mother was a tall lady with permed hair who looked worried and had a big mole on her cheek. Her father was dark and short and was from Brooklyn. Once I was walking to the

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-90413617727279585692008-12-31T00:51:00.005-05:002008-12-31T04:20:02.772-05:00

Gardner MuseumWe went to the Gardner Museum. Walking into the wind we were horribly cold and lumpy with long underwear and sweaters, which I hate, so I was geared up to be irreverent. It was so dark in there you could hardly see anything. Isabella Gardner I'm guessing stipulated that nothing be moved, and the lighting remains the same as what was had a century ago, casting all the paintings in

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-28442967275129159202008-12-26T01:03:00.002-05:002008-12-26T02:19:19.933-05:00

STILLE NACHTI was sitting Christmas morning inside the tent purchased for Zumi desiring to lock it and seal myself in. We agreed not to give each other presents, but I am extremely childish and I love presents. We agreed not to buy a Christmas tree, but I really really like Christmas trees. I thought about going to Midnight Mass on my own, but I can't remember how to cross myself and pretend

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-3302908626289025232008-12-20T17:43:00.002-05:002008-12-20T18:35:02.248-05:00

Yes, it does frequently make me cringe, and here are some possible reasons for this: it is actually badly written, it exposes a troubled personality, it whines, it grows warts. It constructs walls of negativity. It gets dark at 4:30 p.m. In lieu of sunshine, I need a therapist or vodka.I took Zumi sledding for three minutes before calling it quits. We are inside an all shook up snow globe today

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-84408835473559736142008-12-15T02:33:00.005-05:002008-12-15T04:16:56.971-05:00

WHAT WE WOULD BE WITHOUT ITI don't have the capacity to love a man with the kind of maternal dedication and selflessness that you see behind a number of male artists. I wish that I could; it would make our lives so much brighter if I were with him what I am with my daughter when she wants to show me her octopuses: "That's a funny drawing, I love it!" and I kiss her cheek.Despite wanting

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-34247468772094812012008-12-08T02:08:00.006-05:002008-12-11T03:34:08.151-05:00

WASTE "My sweet little whorish Nora I did as you told me, you dirty little girl, and pulled myself off twice when I read your letter. I am delighted to see that you do like being fucked arseways. Yes, now I can remember that night when I fucked you for so long backwards. It was the dirtiest fucking I ever gave you, darling. My prick was stuck in you for hours, fucking in and out under your

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-63939539468184983052008-11-28T01:22:00.002-05:002008-11-28T02:41:15.386-05:00

SHAMEMarmalade is here with a suddenly womanly Heidi who like my daughter is a quarter Asian. Heidi looks a bit like Bjork. We cooked a salt-encrusted prime rib roast--doesn't that sound better than Gobble gobble?Here is last-night's dream: I'm at a party at which I've told everyone that I'm Jewish. A girl comes up to me and says how can you be Jewish with a last name like Parsons? (Never

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-57870726518877285152008-11-26T23:51:00.002-05:002008-11-27T02:48:44.834-05:00

DECLARATIVES (No rants, musings, or etceteras here!)Environment does not matter to me so long as it changes; I need change like a bird needs migration in order to survive. In this country, if you've got college degrees and have the the soberness to slog away at something routine, upheavals have to come from within. How do you become a medium for something bigger than your own small life under

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-15935269942059727022008-11-26T03:01:00.003-05:002008-11-26T03:25:54.769-05:00

When I'm tired and have been listening to music, it doesn't stop streaming in from somewhere. I used to think that I was hearing a radio frequency but now am resigned to accepting that this is some mild form of schizophrenia. I try to chase down an external source, but it dissolves into the whir of the refrigerator or a hum from something else that's plugged in, like the cell phone charger.

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-90031636720181460722008-11-25T02:31:00.005-05:002008-11-25T04:06:10.048-05:00

WEIGHTThis morning Freddy was shaking in bed, and he needed my help to climb into the shower where it took him three minutes to lower his messed-up body into a sitting position so I could help wash him. It made me think of my dad on chemotherapy. When we got the hospital for his scheduled blood work, we stayed around for additional tests and a CAT scan. Freddy was engrossed in Cosmopolitan, I

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-53493379379891081042008-11-24T00:15:00.004-05:002008-11-24T02:40:35.269-05:00

He calls me when he has a hard-on, I call him when I need new shoes. Who's selfish?

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-25412469184252628442008-11-24T00:09:00.001-05:002008-11-24T02:43:36.738-05:00

How do you like that despite my attempts at snobbery, I came from a part of this country where girls as well as boys were punching each other out on the playground. During the daily lunch break someone would yell "Catfight, catfight!", and we would hustle out of the lunch room to watch with gleaming eyes the girls brutally duke it out in a montage of hair, nails, teeth, and ripping skirts.

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-3131400430130193892008-11-23T00:11:00.002-05:002008-11-23T01:06:08.982-05:00

The Spouts have a drum corps around here. The Spouts are celebrating their love of a caffeine-free God. Oh, it isn't drums, just the washing machine which during a spin cycle spasm has lurched off of the stilts it is on (up on stilts like in a marshland like in our basement.) Who would be playing drums well below freezing? Guests are coming for Thanksgiving, Marmalade and Heidi, and a

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6289322.post-20378839013886508912008-11-22T00:14:00.003-05:002008-11-22T01:15:21.334-05:00

The world makes Zumi so mad; I wonder which of one us gave her that. Watch her try to draw an apple with a dry-erase marker. She drew it once, erased half of it and redrew that line, erased the newly drawn line, erased the whole apple and started over again, was unhappy with her last attempt and hit it up with dots to call it a strawberry. Then she drew a three dimensional glass of water which

Zuliekahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02901349926778566904noreply@blogger.com