Tuesday

December 8

Wow really, December 8th? I skipped almost a week. Plus, this picture is from like four days ago. I'm finding it increasingly hard to blog these days. Mostly because I'm completely disillusioned and I can no longer write the words "today was a good day" in order to promote a comforting mood among my readers. The only thing I'm thinking about is something I can't write here. And I couldn't bring myself to pretend minor events were important enough to document the past few days. Oh I started a book about zombies. I really like it. I'm excited for break, I guess? I'm excited to have a new blog with titles and no depressing armadillo. Why did I put that armadillo there it's so sad. I think I'm on a temporary upswing but any second now it may be gone. Or maybe it will stay. Tonight is Radical Student Union. I have a little cold. Today I sneezed and for one horrifying second I thought I sneezed my nosering out. But I didn't. Okay, this blog is over. I am putting a piece of writing here on which I could have tried way harder. Sorry it's so long. You probably shouldn't even read it.

april is in four days and we have to prepare; the rain started last night and flooded the sides of the road; pooling sporadically, the pine needles weave themselves together and build roofs; remove those needles from the streets and from my body of water and flesh; we have to prepare for april. when driving, take special care to avoid the toads; they jump into the middle of the roads; your car will run over them and crush their bones and flatten their skins and you can’t take that; you can’t take killing, what is it now, four? four dead? when driving, avoid the bad dreams that stab at your windshield; that pool sporadically at the sides of the roads; to prepare for the oncoming month, we will remove the black water from the roads; scoop black water and pine needles and dirt and toads into the sewers. then the streets will be clean and we can finally start forgetting. bake muffins; plant bulbs; hang musty sweaters out to dry; write letters. go through motions and put your black clothes in the back of the closet; with the moths and the ants and the worms; the worms that pull their bodies into the middle of the roads and drown in black and blue water; get rid of them; get rid of the dirt and stains on your black clothes and sweaters; forget about january-march; april is in four days what if i don’t forget? this is how to sweep the streets clean; this is how to drive a car; you will want to watch the bright lights on the construction sights on exit 27 and when you drift into the other lane, this is how you go back; this is how you hide black clothes; this is how you hide black; forget forget if i can’t forget; this is how you hide old photographs (so you can find them again); last night the rain and this morning the streets; the green pushed through the black and blue and brown; the green found salvation just like our mother found salvation; this is how you sweep the foyer; this is how you sweep the bedroom; this is how you hide clothes you won’t need again until someone else dies; the green rain flooded our road and we can’t drive our car out; stay inside and hide and sweep and forget; i will never forget you; forget january-march and killing animals with your car in the dark in the rain on march 22 now april is in four days. four days 4 days when april is here i’ll forget where the worms come from



7 comments:

Zach said...

i'm really digging the we/you/i conflict
this is great

#1 fan said...

So dark, Phoebe. Should I be worried?

em rose said...

that was one of the most well-put, original, beautiful things ive ever read, i loved it!

Dave said...

This reminded me of "The Geographical History of America" by Stein. Take that as a compliment.

Andrew said...

stylistically this is like Dave Eggers if he read more Hemingway and had less regard for semicolons. i dig

"watch the bright lights on the construction sights on exit 27 and when you drift into the other lane, this is how you go back;"

the tension between the future and the past is a desire to learn from one while insisting that the other will have nothing to do with it. your relationship with your own history is so complicated and interpretive that every passing day gives you more and more evidence against the history everyone else tries to make you swallow -- write it off, look for the future, make a present in the mean time

Kelsey Lee said...

i think everyone should read it

Anonymous said...

exquisite - thank you Phoebe Glick