om nom vegan recipe time

oat milk porridge with goji banana cocounut and straw-berries

put one part oats and two parts oat milk in a saucepan over very low heat. cook uncovered, stirring occasionally until it reaches the consistency of how you like it. chop banana and strawberry and put on top. sprinkle with coconut and goji. yommmnomnomnomnom.

s.

glass cracking surface of the earth
like
sometimes
this is just how the world looks

wintertime

using this pattern.

clumsy

places you are not:
tent without a fly
long drawn shadow sunset beach
with sharks inside.

alley in the dark
tram ride
petrol station 2am

frankston beach
on the tiny tiles in the second floor bathrooms

sitting on my fence

the comic book store
in between
the reeds and the water

triassic period south brazil
name dropping.

welcome to the winter of our discontent OR i obviously don't write real things anymore

"Lainie, what are you doing? What are you doing? You lay on that couch all day. Those pajamas are like your uniform. You run up a four hundred dollar phone bill. You watch TV. You chain smoke. You don't go outside. You don't do anything. Man, you are IN the Bell Jar"

knitting socks

project for the break. look how pretty they are!

this is not my life

this, this, and always this:

soupe du jour

red walls
bottled
love in the corridor
stairs with a sheet of paper that says
'poetry cafe up here'

long fall to tomorrow
writers shaken
by the pure joy of
washing your hair and leaving
the house
singing in their their heads

mutually reinforced philosophies on life

reading things written by people who know that language doesn't have to be pretty, because the prettiness is really just hiding the deep empty nothingness that you find when you're jeffery lewis writing songs on the gee-tar. and i think, at the bottom of flowery beautiful language is the truth that i have nothing to say and no reality to say it with.

AND

remembering a conversation i had about writers that hated the fifties so deliberately wrote poems that they thought were terrible to teach everyone a Lesson about beat poetry, but then they were published and everyone loved them and their Point had been Proved or whatever, but a good point was made i think when he said had it really, because didn't that come from somewhere, some writer's subconscious, with the trying to be bad just making an antithesis of art; and antithesis, for all it is, can't be nothing.

procrasti-

bake some brownies, knit a hat for a baby that doesn't yet exist (if you want to be all ALL BABIES WANT TO GET BORNED about it), discover an unhealthy love for drag-queen-pop, try to learn crochet, bribe your cat to love you with the promise of being allowed to sit on the forbidden table, spend a few hours with a shoe-less pretty boy you met by a lake. pay too much money for very strong soy coffee. do not write the essay. discover japanese snackfood. write poems in the margins of your contracts textbook. fuck.