from Journal of Ugly Sites

  1. 10.30.12 – 11.1.12
  2. robotic voice on my weather radio repeating litany of warnings, when catastrophic thoughts in my head are publically broadcast//cancelling a reading feels like I’ve gone insane//there’s water at the Met but no meat//sliver of glass in K’s big toe//text from Will “we’re in zone A”//email from my therapist cancelling our session//tube of liverwurst as my natural disaster treat//every plastic bag in Carroll Gardens swirling around Cass and I, her not understanding that now is not the time for hunting, her excited by the elements//K subjecting me to the sounds of “Law and Order SVU” “your poems are shaming to me”//New York City Housing Authority buildings in evacuation Zone A will see their elevators and heat shut down//not able to pull pizza crust out of Cass’s mouth because I’m holding an umbrella in storm force wind//making a list of my downtown friends who I haven’t heard from then staring into space//clicking sound of one horrible update after another on New York Daily News site//stir-crazed argument about how to position the bed to avoid flying glass//the Nov. 1st subway map with lower Manhattan just white space//finding out the Gowanus Houses across the street have been without power//not volunteering because of the voice that says “you are not useful”//American infrastructure getting an F//K up in the middle of the night with an earache holding a mug of hot water to the side of her head
  4. 11.3.12
  5. Carroll Gardens: every detail about her absorbing me since I found out///staring at all the antacids at Rite Aid none of them saying “Pepcid”//standing outside the Gowanus community center with a bag of food door bolted cops milling around inside 30 more families needing to eat//in my next life I would like to be more of a talker, like Duncan whose bio. I’m still reading, I would like to come back as a speed reader//maiming cheddar cheese slices trying to open the seal// ladle flipping out of pot splashing me with hot soup//mealy heirloom tomato//storm bringing winter to my brain and Polish movies to my screen, watching No End fixating on whether or not I would fuck a man who mistook me for a whore//appointment with oncologist ending ignorance is bliss phase//pharmacist directing me to aisle with thermoses when I ask for a hot water bottle//evil knot gathering near the bottom of her spine
  7. 11.7.12 — 11.22.12
  8. East Village: standing beneath canopy in graveyard talking to therapist on phone wind blowing canopy over, running to 11th St. in case anyone saw thinking I knocked it over//how apologetic I am that the nor’easter is cutting into attendance, RBD saying “you’re not God” but I am I say laughing, did think I was omnipotent for a long time//walking up subway stairs faster than the average human unleashing my pedestrian rage//barreling out of office into Society of Daughters of Holland Dames window dedication event//finding it easier to tell my story with an avatar our couple’s therapist named Charlie, you don’t have to fake empathy for me, I mean, Charlie//3 little kids on F seeming unattached to any adult sitting around a pile of vomit with a paper towel over it//new lingerie store by new gelato shop both always empty like every other new venture on the avenue//internet connection diagnosed tragically slow and unfixable//plate of creamed corn even at Prune is ugly//not enough room on F for me to hold my book far enough from my eyes to read it//my used self help books arriving and the one called Can Love Last? has a Tampex coupon folded into a bookmark//I know the story and it will alienate funders//mom endorsing my skills on Linkedin and a lot of people I’ve never heard of, the majority endorsing the thing I think I’m worst at//announcement waiting for the F “ladies and gentleman...” then silence
  9. Carroll Gardens: in slowest line to vote, woman checking off names covered in blue cupcake frosting//sale on post-storm semi-perms//gathering of Slim Jim wrappers//mysterious bites on my legs leading me to cut open box spring to look for bed bug evidence//setting out vitamins forgetting to take them//making sandwich forgetting it in fridge//tube of liverwurst going bad//regretting that I didn’t start moisturizing till now and still can’t establish any moisturizing routine, seeing those dried apple head dolls in my visage//pulling a Funyan out of Cass’s mouth//pulling something large out of her mouth in the dark feeling like a pig snout//performing Laverne and Shirley theme song, K observing that I live like I’m always trying out for a talent show//she saying she phoned it in but they don’t have it, so I come back and they still don’t have it, so I come back… now I’m taking a white pill instead of an orange one//she saying she faxed it but they said they never received it so I call again and they ask if she’s okay and I ask why are you asking?//building owner on premise threatening my fantasy that if I live small enough no one will notice me//amount of my hair in shower drain// Cass licking empty water bowl incites immediate action, never being as good a friend to any human// Fire Lotus Temple being closed on Thanksgiving, innate sense of humiliation burning off in group Zazen even after man in robe corrects position of my hands//Cass’s potential side effects manifesting in my dreams, a strong flow of urine with blood
  11. 12.1.12 – 12.23.12
  12. Carroll Gardens: K and I making fun of each other’s thin hair then both feeling hurt//oncologist’s face when sticking her finger up Cass’s butt//couple with cat waiting for the oncologist, me and the woman now both crying//wishing that I could have known that Isabel was going to die was dumb//broken gold clock hanging from too small of a nail above Cass’s bed//placing red winter berries on bedroom windowsill, poisonous to dogs?//oncologist’s finger flaring out the wall of her rectum, one un-dissolved stitch//Cynthia asking on Facebook if acupuncture is helping, leaving “tumor is back” in the comment field//dream that I’m riding my bike over a ledge and falling for so long that I have time to think about the most fortunate position to be in when landing, focusing on adjusting neck and jaw, when hitting the ground not being in pain everything going grey, still having thoughts with no body//next night Cass swan diving out window, now K is the only one still alive//
  13. wondering why my vision is blurry K noting that my eyelash dander is bad I stopped using my eye wipes//K using my clean shirt to kill a spider “well it’s dirty now”//trying to make the apartment look better I say baby, I think our art is ugly and she’s relieved//
  14. pulling brownie out of her mouth
  15. pulling something orange out of her mouth//
  16. unable to interpret her body, her running as energy from herbs and acupuncture or trying to break free as dogs sometimes do when they are ready to die, what grandpa told me when he returned from the highway with Cinnamon in a paper grocery bag//identifying a problem with my relationships, having no fantasies about the future//