bah

i feel a bit frozen. both figuratively and literally. (ha;).
inside jokes don't belong here i suppose.
whatever. best word of this century. WHATEVER.
that is how i feel about my job prospects currently. dear president obama, please find me a job. i will buy things like fancy clothes and multiple belts and purses, and maybe a car for funsies. no, i won't buy a car, but i'll rent a car for a homeless child--a minority one--and we'll stimulate the economy and spread the wealth. but first, i'll definitely need that job.
why isn't the academic market more protected than this? i thought i could shun academia one day and feel puffed with pride and such. ha ha! i eschew your tenure and monastic existence! instead, academia shunned me this year and it kinda hurt. mainly my ego, i guess, but it's hard to ignore ego pain. it's not like pulling a tooth.
oh, and obama claus, i would also like you to forgive my student loan debt. actually, you could choose--a job or loan forgiveness. either will work. or let me declare bankruptcy on student loans. that'd be swell. stupid doctors.
elsewise, i'm realizing more and more that i might be defective. like when i'm cold if you offered me a blanket i'd wonder why. don't you want the blanket? is there a better blanket upstairs in the closet? why do i care about the hypothetical blanket upstairs when there is absolutely nothing wrong with this blanket anyway? i even like this blanket. and i was cold. and it was very kind of you to give it to me. i promise to try to wrap it around myself, i promise to try. dear president obama, please give me a catalogue of all possible blankets.

homesick

ride a raindrop every lottery you win. i wrote that once. it comes around again, now and then, like a shadow that chases the light. i miss the taut little tummies and arms with ink stains swirling around. burritos with heaven inside. long stretches of pavement with sun melting my face. his beard was bushy and his glasses round. you don't have to wait any longer. i'm so sorry. her eyes were asian. it caused confusion at the german hospital. and there were swirling tutus with cupcakes on trays and earlobes stretched and displayed at the checkout lanes. i fit like a whale in a goldfish jar. i didn't go to the beach enough. but we sat on the cliffs once with pbr and let our thoughts drift over the waves and trickle down our throats. you dried my tears with the chain grease off your bicycle. we sat in a cemetery with your grandfather and a pack of parliament lights. but maybe everyone was there.

she had a great rack. she looked like a thirteen year old boy. her teeth were slightly crooked and bucked in the front. i'm a being of higher intelligence. meep. there's crayon on the walls and the cat has no hair. she has huge blue eyes with lashes that lick the sky. so tiny, put her in my pocket. her bike is named baby blue. she couldn't ride anymore, her girl bits were broken. please don't dance anymore i can't take it. his nose was broken twice, and he wore glasses he didn't need. skinny jeans are morally offensive. do you wanna escape all of this. i couldn't move his arms from around my hips, he had narcolepsy.

she thought she was a witch. a real one with magic. the rose hunt and the dead bird, he touched it and brought it close to his smiling mayan face. she jumped into the pool with striped tights, a bumblebee. goddesses and gods, and oil that burns my nose but is supposed to smell pretty. a corncob up his ass and popcorn out of his mouth. singing and dancing and making pancakes with too much confetti inside. needles going in here and there, don't worry, it's chinese. don't worry, we'll make it. those fucking sunsets are pretty.

he told me he is weird. no, really i am he said. it sounded wrong. i told him weird means you want to fix something to make it normal. i don't want to fix him.

it took a moment before gravity brought that back down to us.