winterizing
Oct. 9th, 2001 09:13 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
aslantthere's this new condensate? for the nobel, and it consists of atoms that have lost their individual identities. it's a new form of matter, it uses lasers. a utopic vision of subsumation at the molecular level.
yesterday i took myself home very early in the coldbiting wind and curled up with the heating pad and painkillers and soy milk and tried not to smash mirrors or scream at passing cars. for dinner i made an asparagus risotto, which helped. also, c brought home six or seven boxes' worth of canned goods and various kitchen items from her grandfather's house. beans, vinegar, cornstarch, essence of cinnamon, cous cous, tomatoes, pear halves.
i have a pear/i halve a pear [i have appeared]
translating the morante dream journal. don't be alarmed: the A is alberto moravia and not other, more familiar a's.
last night i spent an hour waking every two minutes to the taunting beep of the cel's dying battery, an entire hour before i figured it out. was convinced it was the fire alarm and i was too exhausted to claw it out of the ceiling, lying there, too damned or cursed to have these demons in the night.
this morning the death rage is on me. garbage in the veins, sludge in the brains. ineffectual stupid repetitive nonsensical rage rage rage claws at me. i made the mistake of having oatmeal for breakfast. it lies in my stomach like a brick. speak to me of apples only, today.
yesterday i took myself home very early in the coldbiting wind and curled up with the heating pad and painkillers and soy milk and tried not to smash mirrors or scream at passing cars. for dinner i made an asparagus risotto, which helped. also, c brought home six or seven boxes' worth of canned goods and various kitchen items from her grandfather's house. beans, vinegar, cornstarch, essence of cinnamon, cous cous, tomatoes, pear halves.
i have a pear/i halve a pear [i have appeared]
translating the morante dream journal. don't be alarmed: the A is alberto moravia and not other, more familiar a's.
last night i spent an hour waking every two minutes to the taunting beep of the cel's dying battery, an entire hour before i figured it out. was convinced it was the fire alarm and i was too exhausted to claw it out of the ceiling, lying there, too damned or cursed to have these demons in the night.
this morning the death rage is on me. garbage in the veins, sludge in the brains. ineffectual stupid repetitive nonsensical rage rage rage claws at me. i made the mistake of having oatmeal for breakfast. it lies in my stomach like a brick. speak to me of apples only, today.
