Every Sugary Desire


I am now, apparently, considered known by a few rubberies.



  • My hands hurt today, stiff and they just have no interest in typing any further, but the law is the law.  So we are going to fight our way to five hundred words by emptying our brainpan and speaking/writing in the third person.
  • I am keen to write a poem, after I got an email which is from the chapbook competition I entered last year and which mentioned one of their judges this year is Jeffrey McDaniel.  Jeffrey McDaniel is one of my all-time favorite modern poets.  But, as I think I learned through the process of submitting last time, they’re really looking for good spoken word poetry and I don’t think mine bites in the way they’re looking for it to bite.  It should bite harder, leave limbs and minds gangrenous and ripe for amputation.  It should have a power base that glows red-hot.  It should fuck shit up.  To win at that contest, anyway, and mine does other more subtle magics.  So it would need to be new poetry.  And, too,  I think if I were to just sit down right now and try and pull together some lines they would all be about metaphors about Donald Trump’s comb-over and Twitter’s racial and gender politics and right now, there’s not a person in all the known universes who needs that poem to exist.  It’s the poem four or ten back in line from that one that needs to exist so…I am going to have to break the seal.
  • Going to try and watch Stranger Things since people are excited about that.  Not going to watch it while I’m alone in the dark here, though.  I need this brain to function a bit longer.
  • I am completely confused about work.  Like.  Confused.  I don’t know what to do now, but continue as I mentioned yesterday, with this application.  Everything is as was described, and yet, there’s this odd spasm of delusion that snapped in front of my eyes today.   If I back off of this opportunity because I feel, emotionally, for my boss and the situation, and the situation does not improve and the opportunity disappears and I’m fuuu-uucked?  That would be bad.
  • I continue to have really great luck with Lyft drivers.  They’re all considerate, quick, and pleasant people.  Don’t make me talk too much, totally comfortable to talk to for the precisely negligible amount I care to talk.
  • Seeing my mother in the morning.  Will distract her by talking about the RNC and Donald Trump and all manner of inane but true real life happenstances in the political sphere then will run off to the frock shop.
  •   Dinner tonight was pasta, late.  Trying to do something, however small, that feels like it’s a gift to the body.  Trying to be kind and generous in the backwards way that requires saying no and focusing elsewhere rather than capitulating to every sugary desire.
  • It tried to rain for a bit, but that’s done nothing to kill this heat.


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