After receiving a certain handwritten letter from a certain blogging someone, I was reinspired to do this. Problem is, I'm the least-disciplined person in the world. Anyway, I'm trying.
Right now I'm combing out knots from a long weekend. The layer of hair closest my neck turned into a giant flat dread from scarves and high-necked coats. Why didn't I go to USC?
Tonight's Animal Collective. One more school week until spring break. bell hooks is coming on Wednesday, but I have class.
OK, more later. For right now, some delicious poetry:
Giving Myself Up by Mark Strand
I give up my eyes which are glass eggs.
I give up my tongue.
I give up my mouth which is the contstant dream of my tongue.
I give up my throat which is the sleeve of my voice.
I give up my heart which is a burning apple.
I give up my lungs which are trees that have never seen the moon.
I give up my smell which is that of a stone traveling through rain.
I give up my hands which are ten wishes.
I give up my arms which have wanted to leave me anyway.
I give up my legs which are lovers only at night.
I give up my buttocks which are the moons of childhood.
I give up my penis which whispers encouragement to my thighs.
I give up my clothes which are walls that blow in the wind
and I give up the ghost that lives in them.
I give up. I give up.
And you will have none of it because already I am beginning
again without anything.