failure
what is failure, anyways?
something not working the way it was planned or intended to . . . .
something that's lost its way, that's wandered off course and found itself not in Kansas anymore.
something that's lost its intention and found itself coming apart at the seams.
something that has changed.
failure is when the knowledge of a projected future for the thing has been voided in some way.
failure is truth ac.know.ledging that it doesn't know anymore.
i defend the failure.
it has failed in doing what it meant to do, and when it has lost what it meant, it becomes open to more than it ever meant to do.
a blank slate. a fresh start, and no promises for the future this time.
4/18/11
4/15/11
to get free
Walk at least 3 hundred yards. Walk two steps forward saying, "I am me and I am free." Take one step back saying "I feel the chaos." Continue this and eventually the step back or the words of the step back will fall away.
4/2/11
new life
a day free of obligations:
16 hours of pure
fucking
around.
i am feeling expansive,
so i blend up a banana
lie back in bed
think about smoking a cigarette
don't smoke a cigarette
because i quit 3 years ago,
for my health
and the planet
and the cats.
the cats are all gone now
but the gold satin comforter
is still destroyed and
under my bathrobe
while the pool smiles a
blue smile
winking
through the patio doors.
ac 62 degrees,
sweet freon smell
i open my thighs to
the cool thoughts of
eleven am.
don't forget,
a voice on the
stupid plastic
this cellphone is prepaid
so i throw it
and it slides into chlorine
with a minimal sound
casual and violent
and it pleases me
just like
the thought
that wherever
i place my hat,
that is where
i am at.
didn't you know
i have a hat, now
and a lot of other things, too,
cindy,
since you left me.
(2011)
i guess i'm writing poetry again. i dont really know what else to do. most of it will be here: http://alexandraleon.tumblr.com/
or maybe I will make a new blog for it. blogs like babies since i don't have babies.
16 hours of pure
fucking
around.
i am feeling expansive,
so i blend up a banana
lie back in bed
think about smoking a cigarette
don't smoke a cigarette
because i quit 3 years ago,
for my health
and the planet
and the cats.
the cats are all gone now
but the gold satin comforter
is still destroyed and
under my bathrobe
while the pool smiles a
blue smile
winking
through the patio doors.
ac 62 degrees,
sweet freon smell
i open my thighs to
the cool thoughts of
eleven am.
don't forget,
a voice on the
stupid plastic
this cellphone is prepaid
so i throw it
and it slides into chlorine
with a minimal sound
casual and violent
and it pleases me
just like
the thought
that wherever
i place my hat,
that is where
i am at.
didn't you know
i have a hat, now
and a lot of other things, too,
cindy,
since you left me.
(2011)
i guess i'm writing poetry again. i dont really know what else to do. most of it will be here: http://alexandraleon.tumblr.com/
or maybe I will make a new blog for it. blogs like babies since i don't have babies.
4/1/11
are you alone?
"Fiction is one of the few experiences where loneliness can be both confronted and relieved. Drugs, movies where stuff blows up, loud parties -- all these chase away loneliness by making me forget my name's Dave and I live in a one-by-one box of bone no other party can penetrate or know. Fiction, poetry, music, really deep serious sex, and, in various ways, religion -- these are the places (for me) where loneliness is countenanced, stared down, transfigured, treated."
— David Foster Wallace
an endless stream of distractions--we all need distractions--otherwise.
otherwise.
otherwise.
— David Foster Wallace
an endless stream of distractions--we all need distractions--otherwise.
otherwise.
otherwise.
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