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The Journal of Eli Skipp [040]
07/17/2008 02:45 p.m.
scraps:
Chicago bears its hot breath as I sit rolling my fat in great tubes across my belly -- it talks like debaucherous lovers, how they make just enough promises to still you for a moment, all raspy and lipless and smelling like dogsweat and your neighbor's cooking.
I know, all in numbers and names and grams and globules, every item of food I've stuffed into these tubes today. I'm glad that when we wrap ourselves around each other, all angles and soft bits that give way, we stick like great sacks of flesh and leather.
We are: bumpy, veiny, ingrained, grainy and digging, digging, digging for bones underneath each other's subdermal fat.
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[039]
05/19/2008 06:30 p.m.
i will have vague drunken memories of this for the rest of my life:
how i danced like a crazy bitch and he and everyone held back self-
consciously. how i've thrown self-consciousness to the wind in this
windy city, which will never embody me the way that miami's sun-baked
sticky corridors did -- identity-less, i am dressed like a whore because
"fuck it. i don't know anyone in this city anyway." as a stranger here
i can move in the ways only strangers can: boisterous and egocentric and
forgotten aside from snippets. connectivity low and self-exploitation
high in the way of priorities.
i am: brief, self contained, courteous to the point of suspicion and
smoking every hour on the hour --
i am: hungry, aching, sweating down my armored spine and it's awkward
when you touch me, no matter the reason --
at a quarter 'til six in the morning i run screaming down the pavement
hailing a cab because i'm honestly too trashed and terrified to be here.
because coffee with you in the morning would be lovely but my bed and
the familiar softness of a familiar belly would be better. because when
i wake up and the sickness wears off, i'll be filled with that familiar
missing --
infatuation, desperation, need and want and body-electricity, passion and
connection, and giant forms sleeping like great mountains beside me, slipping
down paths my feet have yet to master, i miss, i miss, i miss, i miss.
_____________
i may move this if i ever grow more fond of it. I am currently Affectionate
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[038]
05/06/2008 03:31 a.m.
Because he is antisocial and lonely.
Because I am artistic and beautiful.
Because I will exude needless self-content and independence.
I am a desirable, self-confident, and self-contained woman.
God help me for forgetting. I am currently Better
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"masculine agenda and the second girl i thought i loved."
03/10/2008 03:39 a.m.
the second woman i ever loved, i loved her because she was little and impudent in a way
that made you know she was scared of everything (when i think of her all i see is
superman shirts and lollipops and converse). i stopped talking to her when i couldn’t
stand to see her, all of sixteen and still crooked, smoking and drinking and drugging
herself up, and after that, i never loved a woman again. i hated many though, and i
wanted to fuck them all, so that they would love me deep and i would own them ever
thorough.
(this entry and the one prior were both entries for 101words.org; they're both exactly 101 words long.)
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[036]
12/24/2007 03:30 a.m.
i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss i miss. I am currently Blue
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[035]
11/25/2007 03:55 p.m.
so he's sleeping naked and she's sleeping clothed and she does this because
she's frightened to be discovered as bodily flawed but just to give peace
to herself she, sleeping clothed with her back to him, lifts her shirt so
that her spine can touch the soft skin of his lower belly and she presses to him
and they stick together from the heat but as she struggles to loop her legs around
the bends of his knees in puzzle-piece formation she considers how people never
really touch, how nothing ever really touches, how even her body is disconnected
because atoms constantly repel and the closest she can come since birth is sticking
her smaller back to the belly of this boy and missing him, missing him, missing him.
the next time he asks her what she's thinking about, that is what she will say: i
am filled with an immense sense of missing. when my body shivers i can feel the minute
molecules of my innards rearranging and when i press my hand to yours to assure myself
that you are large enough when compared to me, to engulf me wholly, all i can think of
is how we will never really touch.
we will mime it for the rest of our lives. we will be satisfied with the closest
closeness we can manage, we will be. I am currently Unsure
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[034]
10/25/2007 03:03 p.m.
"francis stopped thinking and rose from the clay."
renzo, 24 and sick of caring, has had his tubes tied --
pulling into harbor against cleats who's knots denied,
renzo, heaving hauling ignores the red of morn',
and round-abouts the cabin boy as he comes-about cape horn. I am currently Wild
I am listening to an in-depth discussion on Virginia Wolf.
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[033]
10/04/2007 12:39 a.m.
i know that you hear color,
and i wonder the sorts of pictures i painted every time
i'd moan and sigh and buck my hips. I am currently Feisty
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[032]
10/04/2007 12:26 a.m.
the word "truculent" should not sound quite so much like "treacle".
it is not a sweet word, and they color nothing alike. I am currently Thoughtfull
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[031]
08/12/2007 01:48 a.m.
all i ever do anymore is fall in love with people who won't
fall in love with me.
not even.
just in a "baby --
call-me-baby-
ask-me-over"
kind of way just like "baby --
you're-so-pretty-baby-
you're-so-perfect-baby-"
kind of.
and don't you ever tell me to get over it, especially
when i'm drunk because
all of the good in me is
directed at a sports bar bathroom mirror and saying "jesus-girl --
you're-so-pretty-girl,"
even when i'm smoking all the time --
"jesus-girl," you
said you'd win my heart and
no, you say you like me --
like your girlfriend better --
even when i'm smoking all the time and
breaking everything in sight and
all i want to do is love my body because
so many people say they love me tell me "baby --
jesus-baby-girl," but
god i'm so fat and god
i'm just so
i can't accept that everyone --
can't you just be insecure with me?
can't you be just as ashamed when you're naked and
just as sure when you're brand new?
can't you ask me questions back?
but all i ever do anymore is --
oh god come quickly because
"oh-god-baby --
i-can-tell-you're-leaving-baby
won't-even-bother-baby-
because-baby,"
kind of just like --
even when i'm smoking all the time,
jesus, girl, oh god, not even. I am currently Unhappy
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