I
I am a little tired. I am halfway through this cup of tea as the next one cools. I am falling into daydreams. I am mad. I am really pissed off sometimes. I am searching the past. I am looking away from the future. I am already tired of this idea. I enjoy thinking myself an explorer of inner worlds. I have always been blue-black and green and orange and sometimes purple and largely red though in a small way. I used to think it might be with those folks and then sometimes the opposite. I am tickled and transformed by Ovid as always. I am gulping tea and moving on to cup two. I am feeling a pain in my back. I am pleased after only a quarter of a page this old pen feels like my finger leaking purple ink. I am a servant of the Secret Fire. I’m not sure if I mentioned that. I hear the wife open the fridge on the floor below and maybe I’ll call her Persephone but then who am I painting myself as. I thought I could be Hermes once, and yes we all know how intelligent you are and yes, you mentioned memory for trivia isn’t the same as intelligence and yes, you said trivia originally meant a crossroads and is associated with the various gods who loiter there blessed be their comings and goings. I’m looking up trivia on Wikipedia. I feel a pain in my toe and hear the neighbors on creaky stairs. I am trying. I am trying to remember what else I wanted to write. I am a wet fart. I am a defective salamander. I am a failed alchemist a ruined poet a lazy fuck a terrible true singer a reluctant pervert a secret squirrel enthusiast a sad sesquipedalian solipsist a collector of pens and tea bowls and bad memories. I am running out of steam. I am losing faith except in my time running out. I am really impressed with the ink capacity. Waterman really knew how to make beautiful simple precise pens 100 or so years ago and what was that. I am hoping you will excuse my handwriting. I got a second idea halfway through a word and bred involuntary monsters. I’m sure that’s none of my business. I am too small to succeed. I am the stone in the maze beneath your heel. I am singing in the shower, but so softly. I’m thinking about the nymph and the passionate shepherd. I wonder if it really was a nymph or if I misremembered. I’m grateful that I picked up a pen today and practiced drawing by copying one of Timm’s Cat Girls and a naked Vampira or is it Vampirella. I will look it up later. I hope to find things to celebrate. I hope I can drop maybe five more pounds. I hope I can buy less liquor in the future. I hope that I will find my people once again. I will try to wrap this up. I am glad the wind has died down. I’m thinking of Bernadette Mayer on this day one day after Groundhog Day in the year of the wood snake in the year of our great confusion 2025.
other animals 