February 2012
5 posts
“la miel que se derrite en mi té.
Un ‘wagier’ con las aguas que...”
– Demmie
morning pages
My mother was released from the hospital yesterday. My dad said she came, without shoes, and completely docile.
My memories of her and her icy, desperate eyes fill me almost with a sense of pride. My mother: the catalyst to any significant growth I have experienced in my life, any semblance of identity that separates me — if only by making me more aware. Of what, I’m not sure. My own...
Donato Eduardo Medina: the point is Stupid people w these qualities Allow themselves to digress even moire into stupidity
Julieanne Brittain: what about insecure people that are also stupid and superficial
how does that work
Donato Eduardo Medina: Haha Really bad
Julieanne Brittain: hahaha
Donato Eduardo Medina: It almost doesn’t work, you could say
Moderatle stupid people with generally nice smiles make up the gist of america”
There is no longer a pull in me. No connection on the other end to force that pull. My heart lives in solitude: complacent or else on the verge of bursting from so much fear.
Tonight I feel anxieties of old coming back after three cups of coffee. All substances affect me in this way — that is all except for alcohol.
But now, it is as it was before. The veil is lifted. The veil which lies behind my eyes, scrunched in folded crevices and forced into my sockets, delicately peeking around my eyeballs like flower petals so that my pupils are nothing more than pollen...