bobby pins

Started with Kick-boe this morning. My favorite part of Saturday. Knocked through that, was annihilated, throwing mad doses of punches and kicking, and felt like a new woman 5 minutes after the class was over. as always. Last night got to witness Carmen having a Clove with TB. She chuckled to herself as she came in 2 drags later, and feeling all a buzz. 3 days ago Dan says in the Palette meeting. "Does anyone have a cigarette?" Then asks the young Isaacson if he has one. 3 days before that I bummed a cigarette from some guy in front of the attic, was all astir and anxious. waiting on lame text messages.

Spent the whole day at home, cleaning my car and vaccuming. Carmen was making soup, I came in to her having-at-it with the blender, agressively shaking that blender to chop that Butternut. We ending up cussing out the kitchen, cussing at the blender. (Our men have retreated).
Just found 3 bobby pins in the study by the door, remembering their evidence of something actually eventful. it was the Saturday before Halloween. I was an agent that night, for whom I cannot tell you--classified information. What started as a night alone, out by myself, turned out to be night of 5, my friend Lacey her husband Paul and Paul #2 and a girl named Michelle. eventually paul #2 gives me a ride home. I kicked down 2 poems to this fellow writer. and he nailed me, he nailed my whole objective when I write. He nailed my motive as a writer. We had a fat conversation and he left, but just before he left he wanted to see what was truly behind Sophia. No way! no agent would do this. pleased in my alias that night. but I couldn't resist. and from behind the study door and removed my wig, throwing down the bobby pins and casting them to the printer and the corner of my desk. Parts of my hair were still rigged up. My hair had taken to the twirled Mahem. And there I was, another version of me.
and then there were adventures that felt wide and vast. There was the gang of us that went skateboarding at 1 am on the Westside. I was on cruiser with a long black coat, my shadow transfiguring the Wicked Witch of the West, or some kind of chase involving Dorothy. Skating in the tennis courts. Long shadows. a full moon.


The adventures seem vast.
The passages struck my heart.
and i also freaked out. quietly. how i wanted this little plant to grow. as it usually doesn't

Now 3 weeks later I am back in my little square. Less worried about my posture. my every move. less even loathful in my thoughts towards myself. I had seen myself as someone so unclimactic. Totally not understanding why someone rad would find me venturesome. The Good news is that this time, I don't feel like I was "passed-over" as I usually do. like some predicatable side of canned fruit. This is the rerun I have worn over and over again. So to be friends. I'm looking forward to not trying, to not lip-sincing a role, to positioning myself in any way that will work.

Not to mention the dilemma of my faith. The tricky way to not know how in the world to explain it to someone so smart in that way I relate to. how fictitious this all seems.